11-7-2018
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
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,
Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
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
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.
Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,
Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird