2-8-24. Thoughts on aging and letting go.
As we shared stories, The warm hum of voices heard, A cup of love spilled.
You may not know what you’ll do next: Hit the open road With your thumb stuck out. Give up all you own
Every hour we are someone Different, Every day something new Learned, Death is just another
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.
The red cardinal high in a tree, caught my attention with his melodious chirp on my daily walk.
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
I remember your smile, your laugh,… you gave so freely. It’s hard that you are gone. I sigh and walk along the bay.
Orange full moon with a half smile, a hanging lantern, lighting the way, through dark streets,
I heard past generations In my son’s voice, I saw his life fly Into another dimension, A place, I can only imagine.
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,
Come with me To the mountain top, Where the crest touches The sky And the air so pure,
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.