Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

Autumn wind Brings scattered leaves, Splattered, With red and gold. Autumn wind

Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,

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…

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

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

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

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

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle

Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,

What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,