Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes

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

Grateful for: Sunrise of pink and gold Showing the way, Lighting the sky, To another blessed day.

There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds,

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

Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

I lay still While my loved one, Sleeps. His warm hand In my hand,

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

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,

Life is like a dream A star studded sky A blink of an eye Oh, how life slips by. Life is like a song

Embrace that which comes with ease: The twinkling of an eye, The drumbeat of a heart, The blooming of a flower,

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

In the rustle of leaves the wind plays a tune, the change of season is on the horizon. It asks permission

Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,