Fifty Arms At Yoga

Spring comes soon. It’s

Not quite here yet

There are trees behind me, and in front

Mud that sun will dry

Look, up where leaves will be:

Fifty Arms at Yoga

Jutting out from every side

Balanced.

Holding

Breath,

And waiting.

This is a "shape" or "form" poem. The lines are arranged to emulate the "shape" of what the poem describes--in this case, a tree.