AlbertGarcia | Samatha Yoga https://samathayoga.com Bringing the Restorative Power of Yoga to Every Body! Tue, 06 Jan 2026 21:12:26 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=5.2.3 https://samathayoga.com/files/2016/10/cropped-samatha-favicon-32x32.png AlbertGarcia | Samatha Yoga https://samathayoga.com 32 32 Ice https://samathayoga.com/2026/01/06/ice/ Tue, 06 Jan 2026 21:12:24 +0000 http://samathayoga.com/?p=1335 Ice
by Albert Garcia

In this California valley, ice on a puddle
is a novelty for children
who stand awkward in their jackets
waiting for the school bus.
They lift off thin slabs
to hold up in the early light
like pieces of stained glass.
They run around,
throw them at each other,
lick them, laughing as their pink tongues stick
to the cold, their breath fogging
the morning gray.

Close up image of the needles of a pine tree encased in a thin layer of ice.

          Between the Sierras
in the distance and a faint film
of clouds, the sun rises
red like the gills of a salmon.
From your porch, watching the kids,
you love this morning more
than any you remember. You hear
the bus rumbling down the road
like the future, hear the squealing
voices, feel your own blood warm
in your body as the kids sing
like winter herons, Ice, ice, ice.

]]> August Morning https://samathayoga.com/2025/11/08/august-morning/ Sat, 08 Nov 2025 22:59:52 +0000 http://samathayoga.com/?p=1305
A small, round watermelon with vines in the garden. It is pale green with darker green stripes

August Morning
by Albert Garcia

It’s ripe, the melon
by our sink. Yellow,
bee-bitten, soft, it perfumes
the house too sweetly.
At five I wake, the air
mournful in its quiet.
My wife’s eyes swim calmly
under their lids, her mouth and jaw
relaxed, different.
What is happening in the silence
of this house? Curtains
hang heavily from their rods.
Ficus leaves tremble
at my footsteps. Yet
the colors outside are perfect —
orange geranium, blue lobelia.
I wander from room to room
like a man in a museum:
wife, children, books, flowers,
melon. Such still air. Soon
the mid-morning breeze will float in
like tepid water, then hot.
How do I start this day,
I who am unsure
of how my life has happened
or how to proceed
amid this warm and steady sweetness.

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