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.
4 comments:
Robbi,
"for me", spot on beautiful moment (oops I meant movement) of the breath. I could read this one over an over like a prayer.
Are you referencing the winter solstice as well? and I just love the ending intimating Buddha under the Bodhi tree :)
Thanks Liz. I like it too. I have written to Denise, asking her if she could help me show these to Mr. Iyengar as a birthday gift. You inspired me to work for that.
I have only one more to go. What will I do once I finish?
No Sf. I will look at them. Do you like the unrhymed version better? To me, the first three lines cried out to be rhymed, and if they did, I was obliged to rhyme the others, though irregularly, and to think about meter as well. I didn't want to change those opening lines because I think they are one of the best things about the poem, so I had to make things regular.
Liz,
I wasn't thinking of winter solstice, not consciously anyhow.
Post a Comment