In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles

Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.

Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,

Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird

Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon