(2015)
Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.
Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.
The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…
I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…