It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.

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

Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

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,

Some days you’re in bliss, Some days you’re in pain. Some days you’re up in the clouds, Some days you’re down in the flame… Some days you get what you want

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

Remember goodness in the fire of e… Remember joy in the center of sorr… Remember love in the flood of hate… Remember courage in the pit of fea… It’s never too late.

A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.

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

Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,

Summertime gives A chance to grow Under the sun, Travel, to new places And have some fun.

Beneath the bustling, hustling mind, deep inside, there is an oasis of calm.

Last night I dreamt that I floated above the clouds, above the earth and my heart

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