Sauna

In the hush of timber‑clad walls,
heat rises like a quiet hymn,
steam curling through the pine‑scented air,
a soft veil that wraps the skin.

Bench‑worn bodies sit in patient stillness,
muscles unwind, sighs release,
the world outside dims to a murmur,
while inside, warmth becomes a pulse.

Drops of perspiration bead and fall,
each bead a tiny lantern of release,
the scent of birch and eucalyptus mingles,
inviting breath to deepen, to ease.

Minutes stretch, then contract,
a rhythm older than the stones that hold the fire,
leaving behind a glow that lingers,
a calm that settles in the marrow.

When the door finally opens,
cool air kisses the flushed cheeks,
and the sauna’s quiet gift remains — a steadfast warmth, remembered, reclaimed.