My travel chums are buckled tight no need for bags aboard this flight I find a spot where bugs and stones are yesterday's unburdened bones I plant one foot, then lift so bold I balance, wobble, lose my hold Then try again, adjust my gaze while strands, unclasped, enshroud my face Two flittering cardinals catch my eye I take a breath and release a sigh The beach has waves that foam and seethe; a canyon's depths and hollows serene A covered porch, though, can't be replaced beneath its shade is more my taste In morning hours--a private place, a respite. Quiet. . . yoga space
Summer 2022, Leander, TX