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

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

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

Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments

One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…

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

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

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes

Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light

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