Photo contributed by Mike Willock

The "Indian summer" rolls on with temperatures in the 60s and 70s and sometimes even the 80s, deep into October. (For now, gardeners have been spared the dreaded the first frost). In that connection, a colleague of mine at school, John Mohrmann, circulated this poem about being grounded. He writes that he choose the poem because of its reference to late summer in the first line, but "I mostly like this poem because it reminds me that when I worry about how I measure up in the 'halls of judgments,' I need to stay connected to my foundation, to 'what I am.' " And make sure you scroll down to see the corresponding beautiful photo shared by Mike Willock  -Tim Woodcock My Rock   Summer’s ending. I sit on my desert rock, listen           to the world’s hum.                    Crows and ravens caw, finches and sparrows chirp. A dog barks.             Can I face                       the halls of judgments? A breeze strokes my face,           b