(2013)
#Autumn
On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,
In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,
In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,
If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most
As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,