The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own

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

Thoughts flicker like twinkling lights, ride them across the sky. Embrace your dream,

Summertime gives A chance to grow Under the sun, Travel, to new places And have some fun.

On a walk this morning, the rocky cliffs that reach the blue-green sea, talk of strength today.

The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,

The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds,

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

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

What if, The simple things In life, were the Most important Events.

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

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