Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

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

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,

The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

Red cardinal dancing On white snow, How regal you appear With your cloak of red, How it cheers my heart

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

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

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,