Ash-colored and lighter than dust
The spider roamed the center
Of the room where I wanted
To lay my purple yoga mat
And I wondered if she knew
She was breaking the important
Spider rule of crawling only
In shadowy corners or hidden
Places to ambush insects.
She wouldn't shoo when I flapped
The mat like a dark thundercloud
Above her head--stood her ground
Like a banyan tree, so I bent down,
Brought my face inches from her
Bristled legs and blew soft puffs
Until she sailed to rest along
The wall. There you go, I said
Then spread the mat and began
Soothing breaths--this is where
I would like this poem to end, but
Later in Sarvangasana,
Weight on my shoulders
And looking up, I saw the spider
On the ceiling looking down
Like a tiny guru. There you go,
She said, let your breath flow,
Be present with the pose.
© by Dennis Trujillo.
Used with the author's permission.