GETTING A GRIP

the air is stifling, no movement
no sound, the last of the cicadas
back underground, all around me
an uneasiness profound, i live
i breathe, in stilted stutters, like
a fish out of water i grasp and
claw at the thick air that surrounds
as my heart leaps and pounds, and
then the  softest of a breeze, if
you could call it that, comes
meekly around, but its enough
just enough to calm me down

by Michael Perry