Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,

In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,

The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as

Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.

On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,

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

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a

Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,

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

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

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

The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the