(2015)
Multi-tasking is overrated!
An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos
The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.
Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon
The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with
As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,
Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,
Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the