Watch the late noon sunlight resting on the terrace plant,

among its sprightly shoots waving their fingers at the light,

watch the gap in the plant, where the warm glow fits in snugly

silently, in a friendly way, as if to say, I’m part of your life like

the earth and water, sky and air. I belong to this space between your

branches, filling the emptiness,

bridging the divide,

keeping you one with the light.

Go back to my yoga mat, and get through the stretches and twists.

Its a lot of work – this growing older. 

Its a stripping down to basics.

Do what’s needed.

The rest matters little.

One…two…three…Twist to the right. To the left. Right. Left


I sit up. Fold the mat.

The sun-diamond shining through the plant-hole is now gone. Receded to an

invisible spot behind the terrace.

Hidden in some corner

or sloping back to its home in the sun.

The sun is a gentle being – it claims the blue expanses at dawn

and turns its back in the evening.

Not a warrior that conquers the sky… a pilgrim that comes to the eastern

door with a bowl of golden light… 

for the day… today. 

And that’s all that matters.

I roll up my mat. Twilight will be gathering its rainbow lights I

imagine. Soon evening will fill the gap in the terrace plant.

Pilgrims all – this day –

this evening –