An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion

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

The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.

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.

In the still night In the silence, My soul begs, My mind to rest. It’s story told

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

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

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

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

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon

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

Soft gray clouds pass slowly by, Soon they will release a gift of r… Trees are shedding their leaves As they turn red, orange and yello… Signaling the squirrels to collect…

What inspires me... Hummingbirds buzzing as they land, on nearby flowers. Their amazing wings