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

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

If I could go back in time I would fix my wrongs, I would sing new songs And mend all hate And open the gate

Last night I dreamt that I floated above the clouds, above the earth and my heart

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

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

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

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a

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

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

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

Come with me To the mountain top, Where the crest touches The sky And the air so pure,