The Scent of Returning Rain

When summer's heat has baked the weary ground,
And then the first, cool drops begin to fall,
A certain scent, familiar and profound,
Rises to answer some forgotten call.

The damp earth breathes, a voice I know so well,
A primal whisper, ancient, soft, and deep,
It weaves a potent, undeniable spell,
And wakes the memories that softly sleep.

This scent of returning rain, a fragrant thread,
Pulls at the heart, no matter where I roam,
An invisible tether, gently, surely led,
Back to the solace of my truest home.

It speaks of childhood, barefoot on the grass,
Of open windows, and a cooling breeze,
Of quiet evenings, watching moments pass,
Beneath the shelter of familiar trees.

It is the comfort of a known embrace,
A sensory anchor, steadfast, strong, and true,
That conjures up a beloved, cherished place,
And paints the world in shades of gentle hue.

No map can guide me with such clear command,
No compass point to where I truly yearn,
As this sweet fragrance, from my native land,
A promise whispered, of a sure return.

This scent of rain, a spirit in the air,
A fragrant guide, through every distant mile,
Reminding me that home is always there,
Held in a breath, a memory, a smile.

- Khushi Kaul