(2013)
a poem written after a difficult day.
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…
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…
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.
The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,
You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own
Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure
Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another