In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,

It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.

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

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,

Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,

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

Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the

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

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

Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.

Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,

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

Come with me To the mountain top, Where the crest touches The sky And the air so pure,