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