Petrichor


Petrichor...
That which descends with sprightliness, cascading unto an unrivaled potency, home to the much-celebrated Maid of the Mist thus deemed a waterfall...

Be it a bounteous, breath-taking stream, a suave the flux that seemingly alters the nearby landscape, nature’s prodigious wonder of all, call it a river...

Pure, fresh, tear like beads of glistening moisture come to quench thirsting leaves approaching by night, ye gratifying early morning dewfall...

A myriad of emotions, of high-spirited delight or low land of tragedy,
melodies of the soul, speak through thine eyes, bringing forth tears of healing...

Of the hourglass-shaped Atlantic, the immense Pacific or the slightest Arctic, nurturing the diversity of life and tranquil ecosystems flow each Behemoth Ocean...

Snowflake Bentley’s passion, talismanic marvel, a youth’s most sought-after snow day respite, of snowballs, snow sports, nay even snow fortresses, greetings to snow...

Oh, thou sui-generis ’Petrichor’, revivifying barren lands on yonder, an exegesis of intense sensitivities championed through enlightened verses, thus meant to beguile...

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