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

In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments

In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

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

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

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

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

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,

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

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

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

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.

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay

Some days you’re in bliss, Some days you’re in pain. Some days you’re up in the clouds, Some days you’re down in the flame… Some days you get what you want

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