On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while

Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

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

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

To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to

Cool breeze rustles through the tr… drifting into my open door and leads me to the window to see leaves falling with abandon. Highlights of red and gold lace

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

Harsh reality smacks like a slap of cold wind. Sometimes I’m a tough sailor, at the helm,

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.

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

Driving down the road, The song, “Let It Be” Came on the radio. Taking me back to Various scenarios.

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

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…

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