Between

I sit in aftermath of moderate yoga
in relative comfort on the flying
carpet of my devotions
my attunements & atonements
remembering

the fluid practice of so long ago
and how the delve & dive & reach
the stillness & the flight
inward led me to the well
to the taste & feel of you
there on the wet stone
there in the morning sun
in the glow of the early world

and while I sit in relative aftermath
moderate because I can no other now
moderate because the bones now
articulate with a catch
a tinge that stitches up
what was with what now is

the little stones that roll & roll & roll
smoothen into what’s to come
as I look for you again