Imagine that your hands are an extension of your heart. Because they are.
—Clea Willow, yoga instructor
While slipping coins into the meter
I remind my hands they are doing
the work of the heart. They fumble
to find another quarter in my coin purse,
then drop it on the sidewalk
where it shines against the gray.
Isn’t that just like the heart, I think,
to bumble even the simplest of routines.
It could be so easy to search for, hold closely,
and let go at just the right time.
Come on hands, I tell them, do what
what the heart must do. Reach.
Recover. Try again.