The west coast of FLA. is hot in the summer but there is always a breeze and water to cool off in or so I remember when I was a child.
Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn
I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and
Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are
What if, The simple things In life, were the Most important Events.
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down
Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,
I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
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.