(2015)
We have a huge owl that lives in woods behind our house, he sometimes hoots at night.
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,
Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,
Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
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.
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.