The Gift of Seeing Our Breath
\nBy
\nJennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
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I.
\nAs a child, as summer slipped into fall,
\nAnd the first frost shrouded the grass in little, dissolvable crystals,
\nI would go outside first thing in the morning
\nAnd make my mouth into a wonder-filled O,
\nAnd breathe. And when I saw my breath
\nSpill wispy veils upwards into the air, like so many unfurling ghosts,
\nI rejoiced and ran in my footy pajamas back to my bed and covers,
\nTo contemplate this most marvelous thing.<\/p>\n
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My friends and I walked to school back then,
\nAnd on the first day it was cold enough
\nTo see your breath, every few steps
\nOne of us would say: \u201cLook! I can see my breath!\u201d
\nAnd we would stop and we would see and we would say:
\n\u201cThat\u2019s so cool!\u201d<\/p>\n
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This morning I saw a little girl step from her front door,
\nMake her mouth into a wonder-filled O, and breathe.
\nI just caught the look of amazement in her eyes as I drove past.<\/p>\n
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II.
\nWhat a gift this being alive, this being able to see our breath,
\nThis casting of feathery nets that needn\u2019t catch anything into an invisible sea of blue,
\nThis gentle launching of ships of clouds\u2014
\nWhat a gift to live in amazement,
\nWhat a gift to be able, on the coldest of days,
\nTo be reminded we are alive, we are warm in here,
\nWe are message bearers sharing silken signals,
\n\u201cThis is mine,\u201d we say, \u201cand I share it with you.\u201d
\nWe are makers of clouds and shepherds of little flocks of adventurous sheep,
\nAnd not a single one of us breathes alone,
\nWe share the breath of those we fear
\nAnd those we love, as summer slips into fall
\nAnd the world becomes shrouded in frost,
\nAnd coldness touches everything\u2014pause,
\nLet us make our heart into a wonder-filled O
\nAnd breathe, letting our warmth spread defiantly into the cold.<\/p>\n
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And one day when we breathe our last
\nOur spirits will spill upwards in feathery spirals
\nAnd be carried on the shoulders of the breath
\nOf the living, and we will rise, our souls shaped like
\nWonder-filled O\u2019s, and we will slip into the arms of angels
\nWho will bear us back to a bed of softest down,
\nTuck us in to rest, kiss our forehead
\nAnd whisper, \u201cRest now. Tomorrow is a new day and there is much to do,
\nAnd many people to fill with amazement. \u201d<\/p>\n
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