01/04/2026
On a quiet morning, springs softly sigh,
The waits nearby.
A carriage glides with a whispered squeak—
But I’m not alone in the balance I seek.
A golden paw taps the moving frame,
As if to say, “Let’s play your game.”
Downward stretch meets a wagging tail,
While focus and fur begin to mingle and trail.
A terrier weaves through the straps with flair,
A yoga mat thief with a confident stare.
She tunnels beneath as I lengthen my spine,
Turning precision to chaos—yet somehow divine.
“Core engaged,” I murmur, trying to breathe,
But a lick on my cheek interrupts mid-sequence three.
A fluffy one barks at the springs’ soft chime,
As if keeping rhythm—or counting my time.
Feet in straps, I circle with grace,
While a Lhasa studies my concentrated face.
She mirrors my stillness, then suddenly sneezes—
Enlightenment lost to doggy nose wheezes.
Yet in this odd, delightful quartet,
No perfect form, no rigid set—
Just laughter woven with every rep,
And joy in each unpredictable step.
For strength isn’t only the muscles we train,
But the moments of madness that soften the strain.
And somewhere between the stretch and the spin,
We find that the real workout lives within—
Among wagging tails and curious eyes,
Where discipline dances and seriousness dies.
