4/7/20
The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people
One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
Walking down the dirt path, Sounds drift on the air, Birds chirping, leaves Rustling, dogs barking. Interconnection of life
Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
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,