The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched

The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

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

Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

What is the happiest moment of the… When I make someone laugh When I am of use for the good When I show kindness When I hold a hand

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

My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,