As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

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

Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,

This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.

On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

Silver sliver of the moon With the bright star of Venus Trailing behind. Moonbeams casting light On the waves,

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,