GloPoWriMo – Day 18

Breathe

to stand
in the garden
and breathe

air clean as
the summer
you were ten
and hiked
in the Sierras

that air
pure

(Your dad was alive then,
remember?)

pure

air carrying
the scent of
the neighbor’s lemon
tree

in bloom

and the bright
promise of
next winter’s

harvest.

the virus
steals taste
and smell
when it first
comes

but when it
comes for your
soul

it steals
your

breath.

Daily Prompt:  “write an ode to life’s small pleasures,” from Na/GloPoWriMo.

Author’s note: Have you noticed how clean the air is these days? Like it sometimes hurts to gaze at intense beauty, it almost hurts to breathe. It’s that pure.

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