Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals

Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,

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

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

Her smile was like gold, Her lines were often bold, Her stories of wisdom told, In books that are now sold. She has left the earth,

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

Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

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…

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

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.

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

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,