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

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down

What if, The simple things In life, were the Most important Events.

The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

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

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free

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

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,

The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,

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