The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched

This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,

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

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer

Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light

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

In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

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

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

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

Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset

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

When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without

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