Petrichor

The spectacle of Mother Nature,
After several months.
Perhaps an apt way
To cleanse the soul.

A soul perplexed,
Lost in confusion.
A soul quietly burdened,
Drubbed into anguish for times unknown.

Raindrops on the face,
Droplets on the leaves.
The scent of the earth,
And the rhythm of nature.

The first rain,
Felt by all five senses.
Washed away the wounds
Cast upon the soul.

Vows to bring peace,
And the harmony once cherished.
Reminding us of what is worth holding,
It leaves with a gentle rustle.

Leaving behind a soul replenished,
Blessed for the journey ahead.
A smile upon the face,
And an impact upon the soul.

Medhavagmi