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

It’s a billion stars moving and co… While we sleep. It’s one miracle after another and… We do not take the leap. It’s the great heave of nature

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

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

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,

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

Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset

Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

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

When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.

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

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

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

I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.