Published by e-Fiction India. 4-2016.
Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old
Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,
Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset
Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are
Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that
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…
The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with