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

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

The wind went through me, it carried the yellow, orange and red leaves lightly on the air. Another change is coming,

Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another

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

What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,

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

Tonight, the wind whistles as it rushes through the atmospher… Winter’s bare limbs of swaying trees, dance in the shadows.

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,

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

Old friends walking on the beach, the waves bring in, memories, of carefree days;

On a walk this morning, the rocky cliffs that reach the blue-green sea, talk of strength today.

Some days you’re in bliss, Some days you’re in pain. Some days you’re up in the clouds, Some days you’re down in the flame… Some days you get what you want

Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset