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

When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old

In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,

Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people

Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and

Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry

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

On this New Year’s Eve Direction lost Drifting like blowing snow To and fro. A freeze comes

Unable to be all things For all people, Perhaps at one time, I tried. Those days are

Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal

The birds flock to the bird feeder, some with black, capped heads and others with

Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…

Twilight slides in quietly as birds fly to warm nests. Pink hues of evening reflect in the clouds. Soon the moon

Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars

One year since I traveled to paradise. One year since I laughed and danced with friends. One year since I watched