Air

Whoosh, the wind through olive trees, tugs my dress with gentle ease. It brushes neck like whispered breath, soft and quiet, light as rest. Flit-flit, white butterflies fly, soft as ash, then say goodbye. Chirp-trill, birds sing wild above, messy songs full of love. Buzz of heat on sun-warm skin, wind curls slow around my shin. Agolli spoke of roots and rain, but I was born of sky and pain. Let others burn or sink or drown, I float where silent dreams fall down. My breath is light, my heart is bare, you’ll only find me in the air.