Come with me To the mountain top, Where the crest touches The sky And the air so pure,

This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.

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

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

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

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

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

Oh billionaires! How you have lost your soul, lost the goal and kneel down

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

I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there

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.

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

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