(2014)
Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a
If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,
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 buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as
On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes
The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,
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,
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the
Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.
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,
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,