On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,

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

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

Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.

A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.

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

On a walk this morning, the rocky cliffs that reach the blue-green sea, talk of strength today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

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.