1/18/21. Dedicated to my husband of 41 years.
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…
The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as
Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,
Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome
Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and
Holiday cheer and laughter, Multicolored lights blink faster, Music of love and good will, Grace the air like snowflakes. Tis the season to be compassionate…
Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;
As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
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
A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.
Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another