9-11-19
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
Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.
It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;
When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer
Life is like a dream A star studded sky A blink of an eye Oh, how life slips by. Life is like a song
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.