Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.

Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.

On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

It’s a billion stars moving and co… While we sleep. It’s one miracle after another and… We do not take the leap. It’s the great heave of nature

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset