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

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

Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,

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

My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,

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

What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,

Soft gray clouds pass slowly by, Soon they will release a gift of r… Trees are shedding their leaves As they turn red, orange and yello… Signaling the squirrels to collect…

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,