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

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

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

Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

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

Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

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

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

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

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

Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird

Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine