4/7/20
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
Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,
Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,
Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,
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,
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
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light
Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.