4-1-19
The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.
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,
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.
Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.
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
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry