This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.

This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.

Silver sliver of the moon With the bright star of Venus Trailing behind. Moonbeams casting light On the waves,

Hello Sunrise, with your red ball of fire, peeking over the horizon, leaving the clouds pink,

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

Come with me To the mountain top, Where the crest touches The sky And the air so pure,

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,

Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.

Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light

Last night I dreamt that I floated above the clouds, above the earth and my heart

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,