9-11-19
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,
What is the happiest moment of the… When I make someone laugh When I am of use for the good When I show kindness When I hold a hand
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down
As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.
At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,
When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
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
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
Holiday cheer and laughter, Multicolored lights blink faster, Music of love and good will, Grace the air like snowflakes. Tis the season to be compassionate…
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.