(2014)
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,
When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer
On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes
In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,
Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.