The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles

On a walk this morning, the rocky cliffs that reach the blue-green sea, talk of strength today.

As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.

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,

The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

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

If I could go back in time I would fix my wrongs, I would sing new songs And mend all hate And open the gate

Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird

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

You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own

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

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

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

Last night I dreamt that I floated above the clouds, above the earth and my heart