It's Still Life

The Rise of Petrichor

It’s what shimmers
wet light, undertones
of black that flows
through my veins.

What’s visibly blind.

It’s the scent of a single wave
that rolls ashore, or when I
stand in peace in the dark.

It’s a rising fresh, clean,

or deep on deep that makes
my heart leap, and save but
for the cold knuckle of rain

which falls through trees,

it’s what seeps into dreams,
that gleams in celestial veins
like an airy damp flood.

Save but for petrichor’s mystic rise …
I might think I’m as young as the sky.

---

Written for RDP “petrichor” meaning of “save but for…” means with the exception of”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.