B R E A T H
B R E A T H E
While in the forest, it’s almost as if my lungs crave the fresh air going in and out in and out.
I open my mouth wider and wider when nobody is watching.
Stretching my face and jaw.
Contorting.
As if to grab every piece of oxygen that can fit into my lungs, ever trying to expand those lungs bigger and wider.
Breath.
Fresh Air.
A blessing.
A gift.
—Brenda
