7-30-24. Inspired by a trip to the mountains of New Mexico in the Gila National forest.
Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light
To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to
Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
I heard past generations In my son’s voice, I saw his life fly Into another dimension, A place, I can only imagine.
If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most
Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure
This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.
Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay
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,
Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire