When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.

Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face

Life is a day dream So they say, With every beat Of my heart, The gate to love

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,

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

Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,

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

Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.

As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free