Baptism

Baptism

I envy the air that webs
the birch’s bare limbs.
Sparrows drape

themselves with its light,
splash in its chill.
I’ve yet to find a place

to gather my air,
to feel it trickle
through my fingers,

cool my skin
with blessing.

——————————–

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Million-Dollar Question.”

Answer – To find my air.

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