As the sky pales amber and pink,
winter cold against windows,
the horizon hungers. Soon, hovering —
the faintest brush of burning day.
I stretch up, unfurling in asana,
sun shimmering joyous above rooftops,
my eyes closed, heavy with light,
a gift for Sunna, Sulis, and Helios —
this rhythm, alive with blessings,
my breath a channel chasing luminescence,
a triad finishing in watchful stillness,
the names of Gods plain on my lips.
KALLISTI 