Rainwater, mist drenched hazel wood, meadow grasses, sage blooms, orris root, ozone, grey amber. Deep, dark, cool and mysterious.
"When the black herds of the rain were grazing,
In the gap of the pure cold wind
And the watery hazes of the hazel
Brought her into my mind,
I thought of the last honey by the water
That no hive can find.
Brightness was drenching through the branches
When she wandered again,
Turning sliver out of dark grasses
Where the skylark had lain,
And her voice coming softly over the meadow
Was the mist becoming rain." - Austin Clarke, The Lost Heifer