You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own

In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

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

Autumn wind Brings scattered leaves, Splattered, With red and gold. Autumn wind

The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,

As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

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

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

Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light