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

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

Beneath the bustling, hustling mind, deep inside, there is an oasis of calm.

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…

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.

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,

Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go

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

Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn

Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

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

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

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

Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.