On the Way to the Shore

In the long discussion
with my sacrum
about the trip to Maine
we argue
in a spasm
where only oil
and warm hands
of a professional
will get us talking again.

It is my impulse
to give up,
tired after a long day
of working with the plants
and in the garden,
let her win
and let her just complain
about needing to get out
of the car and walk,
get a drink
and a hand full
of pills.

I resist
and remember
the yoga
and the way that breathing
puts my feet on the ground,
and stretches gently
and frees the body
from the demands
of the mind.

Tomorrow we will walk
peacefully, knowing we both win,
on the shore
in the morning
at dawn.