Petrichor

There's something magical about rain

The way it falls in silver darts

Like diamond drops

They adorn my hair like a queen's jewels

They rinse me of all things mundane

But that's not even the magical part

It's the smell of the rain

Indescribable, intangible

Yet as real and recognisable

As my own reflection

Sheets of downpour

Cascade and tumble

Over trees and rocks

And toadstool mushrooms

And suddenly this ordinary forest

Is transformed into a fairytale forest

And for a moment I think I can see

Tiny sprites and fairies

Darting between raindrops

Settling silently

On those rain-drenched toadstools

Shaking the water from their iridescent wings

Which almost match

The silvery streaks of rain

Crystalline and pearlescent

And glimmering hazily in the sunlight

Their giggling voices

Like the tinkling of little bells

Filling the rain-washed clearing

Blending with the gentle

Whoosh of rainfall

And in this petrichor-fueled imagining

I am the queen of fairies

With diamond raindrops for my crown

And pure water for my dress

Surrounded by my tiny subjects

Hoping the rain might give me wings, too