In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission

Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.

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

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

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

The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.

Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,

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

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

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…

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

Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.

Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,

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