By James Sawers, Oak Park Aikikai
Winter winds
Winter winds
Blow early this year
Some trees already
Scoured bare of leaves
Geese fly overhead
In formation, confused
Deciding on where to go
Time and season
Come and go
When I enter
The dojo is chilled
The air not yet warmed
By flying bodies
And the swish, slap, thud
And grunt of earnest effort
My bare feet cramp
On the cold mat
Bringing to mind
My recurring question
Why? Why am I here?
I think of my warm couch
Or, my hot latte (soon!)
But, here I am
Anxious to learn
What my body already knows
But has long forgotten
Lost, perhaps, long ago
On winter winds