(2014)
In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,
The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with
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,
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
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
I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.