My soul's been working out,
Lifting nightmares with its snout,Swimming laps in honeyed air.
Tickling felines on a dare,
Weeping hard at news of war,
Grieving deeply to its core.
It lifts the weights of darkest doom
Jabs and punches with gray gloom.
Hikes great peaks of women's beauty,
Hauls me, tugs me to good duty.
Zen-poses til it aches,
Bellows at my fakes.
Sprints through beatitudes,
Ju-Jitzus my bad attitudes.
Wrestles with me to discern,
Spins and skates to make me learn.
Exhausted, it plops down,
Shoots me a soulful frown.
hans ostrom 2022
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