It’s true that fresh air is good for the body
For the pores that drink it in, desperately
Ushering it in with undulations of their organic posture
That fresh air that does not fade, does not wither
But instead exists in varying states of use
That fresh rain pressing in with a burning freeze
Stimulating shock, vivifying life
That dew which breaks, so soft, and sighs
You are not vain to think such thoughts
Symbiosis takes the wheel,
This is our body