Thursday, April 21, 2016

Quiet

It’s the quiet of the morning, so early
That the birds don’t know they have
To sing the world awake yet
I move to the corner of the room
Where my mat is stored,
Guided by the light of my phone

I roll out the mat and sit
My body knows the joy of
My first asana, I smile
Outside a bird breaks the silence
It doesn’t matter, the quiet
Now rests within me

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This work by Sylvia van Bruggen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License

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