from the highest point
in the sky, from a face
with blue wisps for eyes
long strands of braided hair
and pursed pink lips
puffed-up cheeks blow and rise
with breaths of fresh air

pressed ahead, Aira's breath
spirals this way and that
through tufts of white cloud
which drift away and swirl
into faces, shapes of every kind

past the heads of mountains
sharpening hard granite rock
into sculpted stone, pebble and dust

down widening valleys, into narrowing chasms
carrying weightless voices, oscillated motions
through the air like mirrored reflections

atop open plains, above gushing rivers
then down into closed spaces
brushing past surfaces and faces,
bringing forth the most elusive
of aromas before departing
to a stretch of beach
towards far-off waters:
lakes, seas and oceans...
raising sails... reaching far off places...
 
at which point, her breath returns
is inhaled and blown out once more--
to renew its journey.