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

Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

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

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

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

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

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

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

Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,

In the blink of an eye It’s a different scene On the big movie screen So easy to get absorbed In the story line of time.

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

When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.

The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals