It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,

Squirrels with bushy orange tails leap about the deck. Crickets hum, confused that it’s not dark yet. The caw of a blue jay

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

At that magical time When the yellow moon Sets, And the pink mist Of dawn,

As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,

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

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

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

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

Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up

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

I do believe, to give to others lends meaning to our lives. To be there

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

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

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…