On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while

Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,

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

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

Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal

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

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

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,

It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,

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,

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay

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

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion