A January Morning

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.

Photo by Nicole Avagliano on Pexels.com

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