4-1-2017
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,
Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,
Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.
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 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,
Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are
Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go
Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.
The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched