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

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

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

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

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,

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

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

Remember goodness in the fire of e… Remember joy in the center of sorr… Remember love in the flood of hate… Remember courage in the pit of fea… It’s never too late.

Walking on the beach of long ago, the constant roll of the gulf, it’s sound, like a lullaby.

Life is a day dream So they say, With every beat Of my heart, The gate to love

Come with me To the mountain top, Where the crest touches The sky And the air so pure,

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

A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.

What inspires me... Hummingbirds buzzing as they land, on nearby flowers. Their amazing wings

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people