The air is still

The air is still this morn
as if God forgot to breathe
the breath of life to living things
like me in my despair.

It’s silent too like hurt and fear
and worry that invades my faith
and, yes, it’s like my love of you
dispossessed of speech.

But there are birds a-twitter
in this air that doesn’t move
and they are made, you know they are,
to enliven the forgetful.

So here we are both God and me
breathing now in harmony
but I know we’re on a see-saw
taking turns at different views.

Forgetful, yes, forgetful,
we forget to breathe
when on a see-saw up and down
between despair and ecstasy!