Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

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

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

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched

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