The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

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

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.

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

I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there

Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.

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

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

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

Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

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

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

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

On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,