In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

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

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

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

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,

Holiday cheer and laughter, Multicolored lights blink faster, Music of love and good will, Grace the air like snowflakes. Tis the season to be compassionate…

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

The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,

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

This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.

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

I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,

What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,