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

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

Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a

My heart is a good heart, It beats strongly And works hard, To keep me alive. My mind is a good mind,

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

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,

Red, yellow and orange leaves Fall quickly now And create a tapestry of color That fill my mind With joy.

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

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

First snow of the season Came down light and gay, With it’s bright white, Reflecting, Off slow moving clouds

Today, I wish the pain to go, the fatigue that I fight so. This process of aging is unkind and yet, the law of nature is a fast lane of change.

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

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.

In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments

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