(2015)
We have a huge owl that lives in woods behind our house, he sometimes hoots at night.
As I enter my sixty-third year, Fall leaves grace the path I love, With hues of red, Gold and orange.
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are
Easing down the gravel road, yellow leaves spiral across, like a welcome
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
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
A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.
Itchy eyes scaly feet achy joints and bad teeth hair so fine
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
What inspires me... Hummingbirds buzzing as they land, on nearby flowers. Their amazing wings
Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle