Petrichor

bare feet slapping against the pavement

little shock waves echoing through muscles and nerves and bones

the ocean rolls endlessly unto itself against the horizon

happiness tastes like Disney character ice cream and the ebullient buoyancy of bubbles of laughter

streaked with nostalgia

and smells of the invigorating heaviness of rain on the wind 

promising to bring a blanket sewn of thunder and lightning that settled over heads and shoulders in a deluge

you sound like love and flowers, he says

the tops of the trees are ablaze with sunlight

and in the distance lie burgeoning clouds steepled on top of each other like a moving mountain 

footsteps slow and then stop

to feel the warmth of the rubber streaking haywire over the ground like veins

sand sprinkles itself in between toes as the division between fields of sparkling tan and a matte grey expanse begins to blur

stop being so grandiose, her bemused expression replies

a snippet of conversation from closer to the foamy edge of the water floats by

a feather held aloft by the words relaxing

and beautiful

fingers framing a piece of the moment in front of squinted eyes narrowed against the orb of the sun

hanging over the spindly fingers of leaves and branches

as if suspended by a gossamer thread spun by a plane as it soars through the sky

she looks back at him with joy written into the lines of her skin and then returns her gaze to the picture in front of her

the world viewed through glasses tinted the color of wonder and amazement and recognition of how truly infinitesimal

and yet infinite these things are

and they are

 the hearts of every creature thrum peacefully

and in their bliss crickets chirp while birds sing

and children giggle as if in harmony

the kind that makes your throat constrict with smiles simply bursting to break free and paint themselves across faces with gentle strokes

cheeks cradled by gentle curvature

strands of hair run amok as the wind ruffles its curious fingers through it

he rests his palm against her face with a far more knowing touch and the dimple decorating her face with home and familiarity deepens

waves continue to crash in the most gorgeous cacophony

but for all the motion around the pair they remain still

the weather is going to dance, she tells him

just as a tiny drop of water settles against a line of scalp exposed by the breeze

the rain needed to relax after its journey down from the clouds

a chill sings down the spine

but that blanket provided by nature wards off the cold of change while stormy percussion and bright flares of excitement begin

then let’s dance too, he answers with his eyes as much as he does his voice

and as the noise of the tempest crescendos in volume 

he twirls her in the beginning of just that

into the warm magic

of petrichor

(photo is my own)

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