Winter Breath

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poetry of a moment.

Submitted: February 12, 2012

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Submitted: February 12, 2012

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There’s a moment of smoke breath:

Evaporating into cold air

With traces of snow ice and slush

Holding to the tips of brown grass.

And pleasant trees flaunt their branches:

Not dead but awaiting new life,

Waving through the chilling wind.

 

In this moment I’m waiting

My eyes surveying the tranquil

Morning, it waits now to be

A blur of superfluous detail

In the bustling of human life

Wafting in the chilling wind.

 

The breath that pours from my mouth

Is the same as it was always

While I waited for the bus

In heavy jackets and warm gloves.

A calm comes before the storm

Of scrambled memories full of dust.

 

In this breath I am watching

Evaporating into cold air

With traces of my living lungs

Clinging to the molecular atmosphere.

And discarded breath flaunts itself:

Not dead but awaiting new life

To be grasped from chilling wind.

 

As the car pulls up and I’m ready to go

And in my childhood the smoke of the bus shoots against the snow

I let out one last breath and remember

That not much has changed, and it’s for the better.


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