[Intro, quiet morning air, a door opening onto the cold, unhurried] I opened the door and the cold was waiting and my breath went out ahead of me, white [Verse 1, close and conversational, noticing rather than explaining] it is the first time this year I have seen it leave me like that all summer it went in and out unnoticed doing its work without a shape now it hangs there for a moment a small cloud the size of a word and then it lets go of itself and the morning takes it back [Verse 2, same restraint, the breath turning into proof of being here] I stand on the step longer than I need to breathing out just to watch it go the way a child would, the way I did once before I learned to hurry through mornings all those days I did not notice it was still doing this quietly keeping me here without asking to be seen [Bridge, instruments thin out, bass flute and room tone only, one held breath] you do not have to do anything to breathe it was never something I had to earn it just kept coming back every time I let it go [Chorus, warm and wide, opening gently, never lifting into volume] so I let it out slowly into the cold and watch it turn into air again I am here, it says, in a shape I can see and then it does not need to say it anymore [Outro, gentle resolution, the door closing, full stop ending] I go back in and close the door the window fogs a little where I stood by noon it will be invisible again and still be there
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