To Bottle the Breeze
The cool lingers longer in the mountain breeze
Like an embrace when loved ones have to leave,
Holding to the peace of last night, an extra moment
Stolen. The Sun’s sleepy rise brings light later here,
And the slow morning wakes gently. Shadows loom,
But in the gathering light, the night bugs sing
In harmony with the bird’s of morning, and I,
Likewise, feel composed in heavy-eyed industry.
As the morning air fills my lungs, restoring,
Giving life, just like the first breath breathed,
I am, at once, awash in more than self, and see
The world around me with greater perspective,
From this height we can just see more of it,
Though some would say we see less, but if
I could somehow, someway, bottle this air,
Capture this moment, package this feeling,
And give it to the world, much would be healed.
Is it the slowness, or merely the cool comfort
That fills the soul, or is there something more,
A closeness to heaven, in the natural rhythms
Of sunrise and set, unfettered by ticking time?
Ahh, but there is the bell, it calls us to task,
Its toll for me, and I go with others to start
My day, thankful for the prelude, an antecedent
Reminder of myself, as I am, before I must do.
~ Rev. Peter T. Atkinson