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

Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle

It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

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

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

Not sure where we are headed, Could be a long ride, Keep your heart steady, Open wide your eyes. There is something to learn

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

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

Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

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

Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.

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

Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine

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…