Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.

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

The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as

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,

Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.

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

Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,

Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

Holiday cheer and laughter, Multicolored lights blink faster, Music of love and good will, Grace the air like snowflakes. Tis the season to be compassionate…

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

Summertime gives A chance to grow Under the sun, Travel, to new places And have some fun.