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

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion

In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

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

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

Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a

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

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,

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

This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.

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

Walking down the dirt path, Sounds drift on the air, Birds chirping, leaves Rustling, dogs barking. Interconnection of life

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

When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without