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in the air, just after the storm
there is a stillness,
changing the heart, the soul
so wherever light falls
there are shadows of regret
reflected in the music
the rhythm of serenity
fading beneath the sea of grief
wisdoms shame our deeds
as the stars reveal each pitiful
pleasure, each intimate gesture
in the air, after the storm
in the hesitation of a silent melody

in the air, just after the snow
there is a calm, a soothing
who awakens the spirit
with the shrillest truth
when winter’s voice makes her choice
there is silence that trembles
a story that aches to be told
melancholy so rich, so bold
gentling the tears
shushing the fears
reminding the heart to breathe
so the wind will soon leave
her story in those white flakes
for the memory’s sake
in the air, after the snow
quiet wind feeding the lost soul
seeking to find, beneath the bitter
a worthy prayer, a healing 
the feeling of warmth that rises
from the faded image of flurries
too alive, but still blurred
by the voice on winter’s storm

in the air, just after the rain
dries the spirit, rekindles the blame
so summertime perfect
turns to the whisper who fails,
the grieving of a season
who knows she hasn’t the time
to cast her light across the meadows,
her hesitant prayer feels
more like a wish than the reality
that trembles through the air,
breaking into the glorious freedom
so sweet and so rare
the freedom of a joy who is found
when the summer fights away
autumn’s slow caress
when summer flows with grace
across the dusty hills,
despite the showers who say
this is the reason we’ve come
this is the reason we’re here
this is the summer’s fate
the air that will never shade
the light that will never heal
the balmy feel of the season’s will
in the air, just after the rain
who drizzles through the distance
in praise for the love who lives
just past the skies, in the heights
of summertime, as she flies
rising high, oh, rising high

in the air, just after the dreary dusk
a word forms of salty lips
salted by mellow tears,
risking the graceful feelings
flowing down from the heart who hears
His peace, His love, His grace
murmuring through the ages,
a soundless moment, silence
so loud it feels like the story will burst,
in the wisdom of a hope that comes first
from the love that seeks
the light that weeps,
such a music, such peace
in the air, who bleeds
for the time when life knew
this blessing, so good and true
the blessing of a God who just knew
we were healed by His stripes,
we were sealed by His prayers
we were more than still life
we were those who spoke to Him
in the air, after the dreary dusk
the music of praise on our lips
the moment a distant grace
this time, seeing Him in every face
seeing Him, forever our place
seeing Him, as I keep running this race!
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