Oh too, this must pass
through lungs spent paying breath to
unimportant ears,

while the ones nearest
at mouth asphyxiated;
time blown, regretted.

What mix of air let’s
us breathe best, when wind, like time,
can cut or carry?

Rend the hot air with
balloon—way sign or warning?
Hope for the former.

If it doesn’t look
right, turn head, face wind, close eyes,
and feel it as air.