I see a thumbs-up from across the floor
From Amy my teacher, still young and tight.
She's picked two coloured springs to ensure
Reformer is sliding first left then right.

Squats stretch my glutes and thighs until they're sore
The swivel plate twists to my trembling tread
Each move allays decrepitude, builds core
Pay attention, breathe precision, it's said.

But on the trap, with my leg in the air
Done with balance-centered control and flow
A body shift that's too subtle to share
Half-formed in this practice I've come to know.

I sense I've arrived at the border zone,
Where I cross to a phantom space unknown.

[Sonnet from a collection by S.C.N. Pockley]

(CC) reserved by Simon Pockley [contact] (CC) [contact]