In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments

The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched

The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.

Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

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

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,

In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,

The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes

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

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

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

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