Air Is

Air, soft as a turtle dove's breast.
Out of your mouth it will sing
In winter it bites at your chest
Fall, colors and storms it brings.

In Summer it takes a turn,
the air is fragrant with smell.
Through birds, flight we have learned,
Air, like a wave, gives a swell.

Clouds pinpoint the location of it,
smoke trails of eddies and swirls.
Major events when they hit,
produce gases for the whorls.

When Pinatubo blew high,
sunsets were full of cues.
The ashes fell from the sky.
Seasoned air, of purple hues.

But ash, a blizzard of death,
Is made of fine crystal glass,
you dare not take a breath,
lest for you it be the last.

God sent a life giving breeze,
So the people would not choke.
It shot through the felled trees,
and whisked away the smoke. 

Air is the reason we live today
without it we would be dead.
Its all free, so breathe away,
you can't get over fed.