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

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

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

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

If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most

Oh hummingbird Where are you now? Have you taken My courage with you? Oh hummingbird

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

The hummingbirds are buzzing As well as the bees. The Orioles land gingerly On top of the feeder. Cautiously they move down

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

Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.

On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

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

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