The Petrichor Breath of Autumn

Storm clouds leave fresh redolent fragrances
as I step from a shelter of dripping leaves,
the hot breathless air  of summer removed
after the sizzle of  days sinking sun
and a sudden drumming downpour.

How quickly it dark-mottled 
the red dust on the sun-baked ground.
the cracked earth swiftly darkened - 
softened and exhaled -
a breath ferment with the smell of clay,
damp bark and leaf-rot loam.

Gathering my fishing pole and cooler
and wending my way toward home
I breathed deeply, intoxicated by
the sighing moist breath of autumn.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Love fishing in the fall!

View sassylass's Full Portfolio