In the quiet darkness, the stately
planets prance, wheeling in their
orbits like the partners in a minuet.
At some point in its plotted course,
the earth stops before the sun,
so many times its size, bows low,
lower, lowest. But from here,
it seems to break the brightness
off in bits, to eat the sun,
so that it shrinks to one
bright line and disappears.
For me, beneath the coral tree,
hundreds of tiny shadows wink,
mirrored coronas, wavering on the path.
*Pranayama is the controlled exercise of breath. It takes the practice of yoga inside the mind.