Breathing, I twist my body
into awkward positions.
I balance on one leg
with the other leg in half lotus
and bow forward
touching the ground,
I stand on my head, breathing.
I pose the dancer. Pretending elegance
as balance measures my attention to breath.
I run. I ride. I climb to the top of mountains
to see mountains as far as I can see,
myself as I am, witness to something.
Along the way passing whitebark pine, most dying
or already dead, I consider what their exodus means
for mama grizzly who has learned to depend on pine nuts.
I think about her babes.
With a pause, I catch my breath.
Again and again. I begin again.
note: 'Practice' is an excerpt from one of the first Extinction Witness BlogSpot posts, winter 2012.
*'Practice' continues posting poems written as part of the 2014 - 2015 monthly revolving witness at Extinction Witness while I'm editing a six-year collection.
Grizzly photo ©Tom Murphy, shared with artist's permission.
New daily poems resume once the collection goes to the publisher.