(2014)
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.
The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset
In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,
Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.
Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon
Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,
If we could embrace our sorrow and surf on our tears, surely our hearts would grow wider to hold the years
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,
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,
At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,