(2013)
Thoughts on how everyone has something powerful to give.
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
If we could embrace our sorrow and surf on our tears, surely our hearts would grow wider to hold the years
The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,
Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.
The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,