Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset

Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,

Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.

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

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

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

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

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

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 dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,

Summertime gives A chance to grow Under the sun, Travel, to new places And have some fun.

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

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

It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,

On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while