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,

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

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

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

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

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

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

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

When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,

The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes

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,