Breathe Deep

When you’re in this moment,
the wind filling your lungs with conception
of sights
(buildings, thirty feet tall, layered in brick,
Coated in stony red paint and the sweat
Of those who built these structures on scorching days),
Sounds (of cars droning on behind you,
Their tires crushing lazily over gravel and debris,
the engines humming,
Loudly, but not over the sound of the leaves,
dead and alive, of the tree above you as it rustles,
somehow violently and gently, all at the same time),
scents (of, not exhaust, but the grass beneath you,
not lush, but sharp and broken and
pattered on and worn out, old smelling but soothing,
taking you back to long days where you couldn’t appreciate it),
floating, mixing with the tree, the bricks, the life
around you,

Breathe deep; fill your lungs to the brim.

You never know when you’ll get this again.

--Malika N., Adult