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

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go

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

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

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

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

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

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

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

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,

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

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

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