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The Pungency of Blades
Oh, what a shame there is no such name
given to the crisp and clear-cut fragrance;
the fresh severance of dampened grass;
the pungency of blades duelling blades.
What a wonderful war to inhale,
yet not a singular word to tell fair
of this particular haze that parades
and beautifies the awakening air.
A sublime onslaught.
Akin to being caught
in the petrichor feeling
(both the phenomena
and its versifiable meaning)—
lost in the metaphor
of Mother Earth’s perfume
which warms nostalgic the musings
of childhood; of hope and of home.
Ever-lacking in our parlance,
a phrase in our language
that envelopes the sentiment;
a scent, heaven-sent.
An elusive nomad, no name
and no title to claim.
Destined to be known to all,
yet spoken by none;
to wistfully run and wildly roam, ah—
but for now, let’s simply call it
the sweet and mild Gaiaroma.
© Joseph Chin
#nature #beauty #spring #gaia #mothernature #god #words
given to the crisp and clear-cut fragrance;
the fresh severance of dampened grass;
the pungency of blades duelling blades.
What a wonderful war to inhale,
yet not a singular word to tell fair
of this particular haze that parades
and beautifies the awakening air.
A sublime onslaught.
Akin to being caught
in the petrichor feeling
(both the phenomena
and its versifiable meaning)—
lost in the metaphor
of Mother Earth’s perfume
which warms nostalgic the musings
of childhood; of hope and of home.
Ever-lacking in our parlance,
a phrase in our language
that envelopes the sentiment;
a scent, heaven-sent.
An elusive nomad, no name
and no title to claim.
Destined to be known to all,
yet spoken by none;
to wistfully run and wildly roam, ah—
but for now, let’s simply call it
the sweet and mild Gaiaroma.
© Joseph Chin
#nature #beauty #spring #gaia #mothernature #god #words
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