Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free

Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face

Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often

In the still night In the silence, My soul begs, My mind to rest. It’s story told

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

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

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

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon

Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,

Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome

Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,

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

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine