It was warm today in Seattle, I'm guessing upper
60's, and at 2pm I stepped outside to take in some sun.
I looked down at the lawn which is lush and bright
with the new spring green, and hasn't yet been mowed
so was soft, and decided to lie down, arms spread out,
face tipped upward to the sky, eyes closed. I could hear
bees out and about their business, an occasional car
passing on the street, the sound of air moving in and out
of my nose. Melinda laid out beside me, same posture.
We must have looked like victims of The Yoga Murderer,
posed in eternal shavasana on the front lawn of an
But we were very much alive, as was evidenced by the
groans of sun-pleasure, of grassy glee. I desired stasis,
desired the remainder of the afternoon
to contain nothing else but this rooted green mattress,
and this ceiling of warmth.