Sing it, if you feel the need

I always sing the praises for
alcoves
and for the misty, blanketed nights
that reflect city lights so easy
and call to them moths
I will always sing the praises for
trees
and lilies that only bloom in July
and the soft moss that only grows in the shade
I will always sing the praise for
purposely sitting in the dark
and then turning the lights on
in front of a mirror
just to watch your pupils dilate
I will always sing the praises for
the music that gives you goosebumps
when you push the right pedal on a piano
and the note stretches
long into eternity
and a howling guitar
and attempting to sing a harmony and a melody
all at the same time
I will always sing for
the whistling birds
scraping the skin off your knees
the smooth acceleration of running downhill
the pervasive feeling of chalk dust
Praise, I will
how in a crowd of people all milling
and talking muderously to the ears
you can always find the voice you want
I will always praise
a mountain sun
a warm shower
slowing your heartbeat
and taking long breaths
and sinking back into the water
holding yourself there
and counting out
how long you can hold your breath there
your lungs burning