morning yoga
on the lawn
ends in mountain pose.
bare feet root to earth.
chest extends to rising sun.
shoulders square,
body long, bones
stacked one on one
find space between,
separate as far as
ligaments
allow,
endorphins
percolate strong brew
through blood,
palms open, also
to receive the sun.

creature here,
lean like earth
in this north hemisphere,
tilt away, arms up to
sway, tree branches
backward arch,
fingers
reach
for
western
sky.

longest day is
this long yawn,
farthest stretch
from our sun.

swan dive now
to forward fold.
exhale spring.
torso hangs
from hips.
now half lift
with straight spine,
heart shines
summer time.
again to fold,
nose to toes,
and then to rise
once more to
mountain pose,
breathe this
cycle growing
old. older
than we can know.