(2014)
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.
Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down
Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal