Terrace That Breathes

Under the old terrace, the planet breathes in small beats.
An echo slips through brick cracks and rests on the shutters.
Every breath is cold sea that caresses the spent sills.
Time counts its seasons in the breath of stone.
And when night spreads out its arms, the world sighs slow.
A window sighs, salt comes in, moon leaves among the pipes.
Distant lights dissolve into pollen of air.
We remain listening to the planet’s heart that pulses through the bricks.