(2015)
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,
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,
The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched
Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people
Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Some days you’re in bliss, Some days you’re in pain. Some days you’re up in the clouds, Some days you’re down in the flame… Some days you get what you want
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…