The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

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

Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn

Remember goodness in the fire of e… Remember joy in the center of sorr… Remember love in the flood of hate… Remember courage in the pit of fea… It’s never too late.

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,

Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine

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

The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as

Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.

Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome