If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and

This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,

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

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.

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

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

Soft gray clouds pass slowly by, Soon they will release a gift of r… Trees are shedding their leaves As they turn red, orange and yello… Signaling the squirrels to collect…

Autumn wind Brings scattered leaves, Splattered, With red and gold. Autumn wind

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,

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

Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,

Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go