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,

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

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

Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,

My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last

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

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

Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry

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

Soft gray clouds pass slowly by, Soon they will release a gift of r… Trees are shedding their leaves As they turn red, orange and yello… Signaling the squirrels to collect…

Red cardinal dancing On white snow, How regal you appear With your cloak of red, How it cheers my heart

Birds flying here and there, landing on branches to chirp and bare, their heart. A private club among the trees with their own private code.

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

The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles