Summertime gives A chance to grow Under the sun, Travel, to new places And have some fun.

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

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

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

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

Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that

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

Remember goodness in the fire of e… Remember joy in the center of sorr… Remember love in the flood of hate… Remember courage in the pit of fea… It’s never too late.

In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.

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

Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars