11-2016.
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
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…
Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Firefly shine your light, Brighten my life, Lead the way, through The meadows, in my mind. Firefly, float so high,
I heard past generations In my son’s voice, I saw his life fly Into another dimension, A place, I can only imagine.
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure