In the stillness of the
humidity,
I hear only
my rubber-soled sneakers on pavement,
a twirp here,
and a tweet there,
but otherwise
just silence,
a heavy silence
that blankets my soul
with a special warmth.
I am here,
out here
alone with God.

I breathe in the liquid-y air
and feel a faint breeze
pass over the perspiration on my face.
I am here,
out here
alone with God.

I smile at the lush green leaves
softly hanging from tree branches
that are breathing in the same liquid-y air as I.
I am here,
out here
alone with God.

There are no other moments
so dear to my heart
than these that fall
from the stillness of the
humidity,
when I am here,
out here
alone with God.