1-6-2019
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
Autumn wind Brings scattered leaves, Splattered, With red and gold. Autumn wind
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,
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission
If we could embrace our sorrow and surf on our tears, surely our hearts would grow wider to hold the years
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
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
Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences
You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own
Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,
Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
