White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,

Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go

Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,

Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down

A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.

Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that

It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,

The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,

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