Catching and Letting Go

The sound,
On an early weekday morning,
Of your breath flying out of your mouth,
(Too fast no time)
Yet it's so calm and measured and perfect,
Like the surrounding wind before it storms,
The grey sky and the sunset behind it,
The motionless fleet of cars in driveways,
And it all wants to drive up and stop,
RIght in my face,
The Big Thing it's gonna happen,
And you breath in,
And it all goes back to order.

I'll never get over,
How much you are when you're nothing.