Downward dog with bum held high and fingers splayed on either side,
Stretching chest towards the floor, high on tiptoes, squeeze in core.
Back is easing, shoulders sinking, head clears thought and frenzied thinking.
Ears brush elbows, calves quite tight; my arms they ache, but soul is light.
The voice from Zoom floats round the room
And pulls me back to earth – too soon!
A friendly face from outer space
(or inner space? that place inside
Where social distancers can hide while letting anxious fretting slide).
“Can everybody hear OK? Next week we’ll try a different way
If this is buggy, lags or sighs while you are stretching out your thighs.
Let’s focus on your tum a mo’, with conscious breathing, to and fro
the white noise
I’m floating in my inner mind. No cares, while tensing my behind
and pelvic floor.
Now walk my fingers back with ease and rest my chin against my knees.
Then bone by bone I rise to stand, and reaching up, I clasp my hands
And stretch my neck now left, now right, now tuck my chins both out of sight.
And leaning back peruse the ceiling, mouth wide open……
I shan’t pretend I like the end of class.
It brings a wave of relaxation to these days of isolation.
I s’pose I ought to try to go and jog.
I’ll de-stress a whole lot faster trying to sedulously master
A good long, sweaty
Perfect downward dog.
(c)Fiona Mauchline 2020