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

As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.

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

Some days you’re in bliss, Some days you’re in pain. Some days you’re up in the clouds, Some days you’re down in the flame… Some days you get what you want

As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.

Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and

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

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay

In the blink of an eye It’s a different scene On the big movie screen So easy to get absorbed In the story line of time.

I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.

Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,

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

Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.

Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome

I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there