Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that

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

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

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,

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

If I had all the time In the world To write, What would I say? What would be the most

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

Embrace that which comes with ease: The twinkling of an eye, The drumbeat of a heart, The blooming of a flower,

One year since I traveled to paradise. One year since I laughed and danced with friends. One year since I watched

Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion

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

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

The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes

The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,

It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.