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

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

Summer is near it’s end,
I regret not visiting my
childhood home,
near the gulf,
where the sunset

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

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

Misty fog floating through
bare trees.
Cold waves of wind
coarse through the woods
whistling as they go

Not sure where we are headed,
Could be a long ride,
Keep your heart steady,
Open wide your eyes.
There is something to learn

Rolling painted deserts
of the west.
Shrub bushes dot
sloping hillsides.
Relentless sun heats up

Dark bulk of a single bird,
With red puffed up chest,
As winter’s breeze sways his perch

Cool breeze rustles through the tr
drifting into my open door
and leads me to the window to see
leaves falling with abandon.
Highlights of red and gold lace

Life is but a dream,
our fantasies,
spill, like liquid tears
that pool and vaporize
into the air.

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

When you are not here
An empty heart full of fear
Arises and wonders
If I will see you again.
What will I do without

Today, I wish the pain to go,
the fatigue that I fight so.
This process of aging is unkind
and yet, the law of nature
is a fast lane of change.

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.

To open and risk hurt...
Or stay closed but
Never really live.
Pain can reveal...
A connection to

Standing at a crossroad
Between this life
And the next,
Heart in hand
I knock on that

Red cardinal dancing
On white snow,
How regal you appear
With your cloak of red,
How it cheers my heart

Mr. R. would talk
about his deceased
brother, he dreamed
about him frequently;
also of an eagle

Unable to be all things
For all people,
Perhaps at one time,
I tried.
Those days are

The buck in the garden
Chewing up hard earned
Labor,
His antlers raise,
His ears perk up, as

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

Walking down the dirt path,
Sounds drift on the air,
Birds chirping, leaves
Rustling, dogs barking.
Interconnection of life

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

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

It is what it is
Despite my wishes for it,
Otherwise.
You are who you are
Despite my expectations,

It’s a billion stars moving and co
While we sleep.
It’s one miracle after another and
We do not take the leap.
It’s the great heave of nature

Ambition seems overrated
at this time of life,
effort seems more like strife.
In my youth I was motivated
by a hungry desire

Red sun in the morning
rolling up the side of earth.
The sky turned pink,
as a ball of fire
showed it’s strength,

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

Firefly shine your light,
Brighten my life,
Lead the way, through
The meadows, in my mind.
Firefly, float so high,

In the rustle of leaves
the wind plays a tune,
the change of season
is on the horizon.
It asks permission

Geese are honking
As they fly
Across an orange colored
Sky.
My spirit soars

I lay still
While my loved one,
Sleeps.
His warm hand
In my hand,

Memories of my childhood
Visit more and more
Each day,
As ghosts of past relatives
Cast their shadows,

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