Dedicated to my husband who is a clay artist, 5/17/22.
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
Soft gray clouds pass slowly by, Soon they will release a gift of r… Trees are shedding their leaves As they turn red, orange and yello… Signaling the squirrels to collect…
On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes
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
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
Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,
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,
Driving down the road, The song, “Let It Be” Came on the radio. Taking me back to Various scenarios.
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,
Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,