Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another

When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset

The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down

It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched

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.

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

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go