Smoker's Yoga

Bed-head hidden beneath a fisherman’s hat
 

Tired eyes masked with shades

He shuffles out the front door and pauses at the foot of the driveway

Taking a moment to feel the sun and breathe in fresh morning air before

Lighting a cigarette

 

Reaching for the sky

He raises his arms high over head in a slow, satisfying stretch

With wisps of smoke curling from his right hand

Posing, pausing long enough for his belly to peek out from under the worn gray t-shirt to greet the day

 

With a grunt, the stretch becomes a bend

As he stoops to snatch the plastic-clad newspaper from the pavement

While other shy body parts catch a glimpse of the morning from behind

 

Slowly rising with a deep inhale and a nicotine sigh

He nods and waves through his personal cloud at the passing dog and walker