Still Turning

Even if the air feels stagnant here
the world is still turning.
Even if human glances are brief, deflecting things
the world is still turning.
Even if my head pounds and I hear doors creaking
several towns over, I guess
the world is still turning.
Spring will follow winter, if all
that is so.
The moon will rise and fall
tides will ebb, yes, and flow.
On its axis, tight and true,
even without you,
the world is
still
turning.