Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go

Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face

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

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

Leaves falling, Another season Decorating the earth. One red leaf In my path,

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

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

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

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…

Cold spring rain chills my body And yet, the birds fly in unison As if, it is a sunny day. The white tail deer Bounce through the ravine

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

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

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

The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,

You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own