The fresh air’s so pleasant,
I hardly feel it on my skin
as a touch of wind
breaks its stillness,
inflating my lungs.
Breath arrives
before I know
to call for it.
This soft breeze smells like nectar
to the birds singing within reach.
Their shared song sharply quiets,
as if ordered by the scented sky.
They all know right when to fly,
before ever deciding to leave.
I watch them lift as one,
floating into formation,
shrinking to dots,
fading away…
Knowing they must go,
I let the wind take my breath.
All unfolds and flows—
all is as it should be.
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Author:
FallingAwake2 (
Offline) - Published: February 14th, 2026 22:10
- Comment from author about the poem: about how things kind of just happen... and they kind of just are.... a witnessing of the unfolding through the lenses of a simple moment... cheers!
- Category: Nature
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments2
Breathing a rhythmic autonomic response that requires no thought even in sleep. This is reflected in the rhythms of nature where the flight and formation of birds raising and descending mimic the breathing. Natures cycles whether on a large scale of small private scale follow the same pattern. Well done
this drifts like smoke through a sunlit room.
I love how you catch the quiet exhale of life, letting it fold into something almost sacred.
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