Sun straight overheadI shield my eyesLook for shadeBut the roses' scent calls meI find pink, white, rosePinwheels twirlingIn children's handsAt a May Day Picnic.

Flamenco dancers Swirl, swish, swayRed skirts flyingTo the Spanish Drumbeat, guitarHeels click a rhythmTo the music Of summer heat.

True beautyIs not externalTrue beauty is pure Internal, yet It shows—glows From withinClear through toOutside.