I searched the air
that circles tree branches
in December.
I knew within if I
could take that air
I would breathe forever.
I searched the water
that is swept back
by the swing of a
guppy’s tail, so tiny
that no one noticed.
I wanted to drink it
when it broke the stillness
of a trapped pool.
What I needed was
so small that
I didn’t notice it myself.
That one drop
of condensation that
hung from my window.
That one speck of dust
that rose when I
picked up my pen.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
I searched the air
that circles tree branches
in December.
I knew within if I
could take that air
I would breathe forever.
I searched the water
that is swept back
by the swing of a
guppy’s tail, so tiny
that no one noticed.
I wanted to drink it
when it broke the stillness
of a trapped pool.
What I needed was
so small that
I didn’t notice it myself.
That one drop
of condensation that
hung from my window.
That one speck of dust
that rose when I
picked up my pen.
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