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