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

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

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn

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

Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.

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

On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

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

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

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,