Meditation

This morning I watched him hold yogic positions,

His muscles radiant and powerfully lifted,

Now he sits on the porch, a calm figure of awareness.

The gray mist hangs over the gulch, the pinkish leaves fall

One after another like my father’s poses,

Each landing is a posture of self-mastery,

Tada-asana, Sirsha-asana, Vira-asana.

We sit on the porch for a long while, meditating,

Crows crow, the woods are full of angry birds.

Inside the cabin, the dragonfly cannot find a way out,

His vociferous wings create a useless fury.

CRA

12/20/2007