The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as

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

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,

Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

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

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the

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

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

Red cardinal dancing On white snow, How regal you appear With your cloak of red, How it cheers my heart

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

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.

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

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

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

What if, The simple things In life, were the Most important Events.