Early, But Worth It

Seven in the morning is for stretching, observing, and stealing a little peace.
The sea is still half asleep which feels relatable.
Last night’s wine makes stretches more aspirational than achievable.
Water so still it could have been bottled as “Morning Bliss” with a matching tasteful label and an inflated price. 
Devil rays glide by, clearly judging your attempts at elegance in athleisure.
Downward dogs feel good even if you secretly wonder if you look like a confused giraffe.
The teacher carries calm like its second nature, you start to wonder if they’re always like this. Either way, you’re taking notes.
Croissants, bacon, eggs – whether that cancels anything out is beside the point.
Downward dog, upward dog, plank, chaturanga – you’re mostly following the instructor, and mostly following your brain: plain croissant with that amazing French butter, or chocolate today?
By day four, you could touch your toes without grimacing. Or maybe you just convinced yourself you could.
Finally, child’s pose, cold towel on your forehead, Namaste. Bliss. You half expect someone to hand you a medal – or at least a mimosa – for surviving class.
The day set well is a gift you give yourself.