On the Breath of Breeze

The upper room is hot at night,

With scarce relief

From summer’s blist’ring heat.

Yet, a gentle breeze, like baby’s breath,

Moist and supple,

Breaks the stagnant air.

Through rusted screen,

And wooden frame with weighted sash,

The phantom enters, unannounced.

The ghostly guest is filled with muse,

For slumb’ring mind and restless limbs,

On heated tufts of dreams.

Whispers of a senseless night,

A whistle from a far-off train,

And wrestling cats in heat.

A baby’s cry comes floating in,

A mother’s gentle voice,

And tender rhythm of a chair.

A lovers’ spat, though indistinct,

And muffled by the heat;

A door slam, then a sudden screech.

A drop of moisture enters too;

A flash of light and whispered quake

Brings with the hope for more.

And an intangible scent,

like fresh-cut grass on the breath of breeze,

Arouses budding sleep.

(January 2026)

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