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Consider the air, the substance, the thing we know so well but never see.

Air rushes through our fingers and blusters in our hair; it is soft, just soft as soft can only be.

Upon the air rides the fragrance of floral seduction that bees cannot resist, nor humming birds, nor butterfly nor me.

When speeding to the lungs air signals a gasp, desperate breath; could be fright; could be delight; that gasp before ecstasy.

The air welled up by the heat of a day blows ships, pushes waves, makes storms and takes lives.

The air pumped up fills balloons, whistles tunes, and at times puts rings around moons.

 Itís just air, never seen, always there, always there, thanks be, always there.

But just yesterday I saw the air. This thing you cannot see.

You were walking toward me and your dress and your hair were swimming. You were the breeze. You were the soft breeze. It could not be separated from you. It could not be separated from you. The air; you were the air donít you see? Donít you see?

And with my eyes I breathed you in. I breathed you in.