1-6-2019
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.
A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often
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.
The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,
An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people
Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are
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,
Red cardinal dancing On white snow, How regal you appear With your cloak of red, How it cheers my heart
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,
Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the