(2014)
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with
Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire
Walking down the dirt path, Sounds drift on the air, Birds chirping, leaves Rustling, dogs barking. Interconnection of life
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last
White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,
Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon
Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,
Rolling painted deserts of the west. Shrub bushes dot sloping hillsides. Relentless sun heats up
Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,
Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes
On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes
I heard past generations In my son’s voice, I saw his life fly Into another dimension, A place, I can only imagine.