Holding On and Coming On

The air

captures it all.

One breath in

as you feel and catch

all of your brain signals

thinking this is something fresh.

For all of the grass

and leaves that are left,

there is a whisper

between the limbs of the trees

as you can see in the distance.

Yet, the sight of grey still flees.

Maybe all else is still,

and a hollow quiet

is in sound,

but not in impact

as it amplifies each chilled plant life

that surrounds

under an infinite sky.

Then there is one blotch of color

that climbs it's way through

all of the bushes

in thickness order.

You gasp.

Breath out.