1-6-2019
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,
In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
Life is like a dream A star studded sky A blink of an eye Oh, how life slips by. Life is like a song
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles
Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.
It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,