Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

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

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the

This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,

In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments

Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

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

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,

It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,