(2013)
a poem written after a difficult day.
It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,
Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
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…
When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.
Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
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.
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay