Just some thoughts about aging and death, 7/8/22
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched
In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.
The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,
The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,
Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,
Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
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