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

If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most

Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,

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

It’s a billion stars moving and co… While we sleep. It’s one miracle after another and… We do not take the leap. It’s the great heave of nature

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free

I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,

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

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

Oh billionaires! How you have lost your soul, lost the goal and kneel down

Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

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

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