Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

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,

Hello Sunrise, with your red ball of fire, peeking over the horizon, leaving the clouds pink,

Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a

Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion

Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine