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

If I could go back in time I would fix my wrongs, I would sing new songs And mend all hate And open the gate

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes

Cool breeze rustles through the tr… drifting into my open door and leads me to the window to see leaves falling with abandon. Highlights of red and gold lace

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,

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

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

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

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

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

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,

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

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos