The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

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

Beneath the bustling, hustling mind, deep inside, there is an oasis of calm.

Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle

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

In the still night In the silence, My soul begs, My mind to rest. It’s story told

The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light

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,

In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon

Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry

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

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go