Poem: Yoga Nature

I do yoga in the autumn woods.
Nature is my teacher.
The sky is my Om.
The soil of the ground, my mat
that I lengthen in an upward dog.

The tree is my pose
that stables my imbalance.
The black slate is my plank
when I feel weak and unsure.
The leaves crackle under my feet
as I reverse my warrior.

I skim the stones of mindfulness
across the shallow creek
of glistening waters.
I breathe in the scent of pine and maple
with Ujjayi breath.
I stretch and unwind
under an emerald-blue waterfall
to loosen the tightness
of my grip.

©️MFT