Winter 2024
If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most
I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old
What is the happiest moment of the… When I make someone laugh When I am of use for the good When I show kindness When I hold a hand
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer
The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles
Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a
Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are