This Moment: 10:08 A.M. 6 October 2012

I drove to yoga class this morning in the near dark. The small dog is lying next to me, licking the salt from my hands. I have yet to wash the sweat or the anger from my body. One half hour into the practice this morning I stopped pushing the anger down and let it flood until I could no longer breathe. I have been pushing this from me for five years now and I am too tired to hold anything back. A gun is popping in the distance. I imagine the geese halting mid-flight, then plummeting. The small bones of my sacrum slide in and out of place as I shift position. Cars whoosh or roar down the road.I have tried and I have failed to make the untenable an ordinary problem with a reasonable solution. The last green leaves are vivid in their optimism. The autumn sun dapples the foilage with gentle light. The small dog is at the door whining to be let out. The old dog barks it jealously at my hand reaching down and attaching the leash. Now she pads over, nails clicking on the hardwood. My eyes are closing on the day.