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

As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.

Silver sliver of the moon With the bright star of Venus Trailing behind. Moonbeams casting light On the waves,

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

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

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.

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

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,

In the blink of an eye It’s a different scene On the big movie screen So easy to get absorbed In the story line of time.

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

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

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

This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,