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

Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,

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

Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay

One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…

Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal

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

Holiday cheer and laughter, Multicolored lights blink faster, Music of love and good will, Grace the air like snowflakes. Tis the season to be compassionate…

To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,

Cool breeze rustles through the tr… drifting into my open door and leads me to the window to see leaves falling with abandon. Highlights of red and gold lace

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

Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.

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