When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

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

I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free

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

Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.

On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes

Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as

On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while