What if, The simple things In life, were the Most important Events.

I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,

Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes

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

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

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

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face

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

When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old

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,

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

Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,

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,