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

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

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,

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

Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another

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

Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry

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

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

Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle

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

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

Embrace that which comes with ease: The twinkling of an eye, The drumbeat of a heart, The blooming of a flower,

It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,