Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine

When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old

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

Autumn wind Brings scattered leaves, Splattered, With red and gold. Autumn wind

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

Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,

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

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

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

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

Red bird perched on a tree limb laced with snow. So happy to see him and the joy he brings.

The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,

On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes