Lean into it when the day is still
and you will stumble into nothing,
yet you know it is there,
feeling its icy fingers or baked rays,
enjoying the tickle of its whisper
when gentle breezes lift all
that is ordinary from your burdened neck.
On atmospheric days, when what we
have given shows itself plainly, the soot
of smog a pallid reminder that all
actions come with consequences, the cast
of convenient living in contrast
to the gray, dying sky.
After a rain, washed clean and forgiving,
it keeps filling us, one breath at a time,
an exchange of molecules as old as Adam,
the one thing we cannot see that we
continue to believe.
April 21, 2013