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

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

In the still night In the silence, My soul begs, My mind to rest. It’s story told

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

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,

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

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

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

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

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

Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another

Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine

Embrace that which comes with ease: The twinkling of an eye, The drumbeat of a heart, The blooming of a flower,

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

Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,