and the wind blows past the tips of my fingers,
as i watch the skies open up
like undiscovered galaxies.
and my hair mingles with the dewy grass beneath me,
as i suck in stars that have sunk
down towards the earth.
what is in the air that I breathe?
how does it taste like music,
and how does it turn to magic inside of my lungs?
for it glows as i blow out,
spreading its layers over the thin atmosphere that surrounds me.
december trees change with time,
and so do we;
shedding old leaves,
shaking off crusty bark
and stripping ourselves bare
so that we can feel when the ice melts away.
it is good to be alive
and to feel the earth, mellow yet heady,
under the warmth of my skin.
earth that i love,
i will be sorry if i ever forget
how perfectly imperfect life really is.
isn't that what winter is for?