MUSED Literary Magazine.
Fiction

Petrichor

Marylou Mansfield

I found myself,
my true self,
standing in the parting clouds,
pushed aside by an eager sun,
after long awaited showers.

The pant of green leaves
cupped with errant water,
nursed a parched earth
back to health.
I drank as well.

Memories sifted in my mind
as panned gold.
The nuggets were there,
rinsed afresh, glimmering,
awaiting my fingers
to pluck them to my heart.

I took my time,
savoring each flit of detail,
bringing me closer
to my own cursum perficio.
I so love these moments,
floating between filtered mist
and seeking sun,
quenching the thirst of my recollections.