Breath in the Air

Words hang with our breath
in small clouds above our heads.
The heated words create a physicality, temporary,
dissipating, as brief as the heat of that moment
– they hang just long enough to be examined, in thoughtful pause.
That pause being long enough to realize
there is perfection in this moment of imperfection
Wabi Sabi the Japanese call it.
In that quiet abeyance I see in your eyes
we are agreeing to accept these intimacies as they are
no longer trying to correct any wrong
change any quality of character
or force our will.
As the heated words dissolve into nothingness,
our breath, heated with a different kind of fire
rises into the air. We are surrounded by snow,
by deeply scented evergreens, by a snow fox, by the dimming winter light.

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