1/18/21. Dedicated to my husband of 41 years.
Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,
Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
Life is a day dream So they say, With every beat Of my heart, The gate to love
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
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
Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up