4-1-2017
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
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,
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles
Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos