10 Minute Prompt: Write about your "only real" (write-a-thon edition)

Real is the breath I take
the eye that blinks
the itch on the back of my hand
the song of the robin on a wire at dusk
the ripple on a still evening pond
the rustling and jostling murder of crows
in the tree murmuring excuse me
as they settle in for sleep
warm dry air brushes my cheek
as it heads into night
excited for the change
watches the world roll over and snore
warm dry air holds its breath
to see who flinches, who cries out
against the coming night
against what’s next
warm dry air anticipates
delights, enjoys the slow walk home
in buzzing night
the closing door
the turned off lights
creak of springs
repose