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

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

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

My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,

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

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

Firefly shine your light, Brighten my life, Lead the way, through The meadows, in my mind. Firefly, float so high,

The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles

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

I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

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

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