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

Inspiration is in the falling of rain, the soft coo of birds in late afternoon, the sinking of the

The white snow, thin Like sand, over The fields, blowing Across the road. My car rambles

Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,

Blue star behind tree branch. White cloud passing half moon. Black space surrounds like a

Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.

The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.

White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,

On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,

Silver sliver of the moon With the bright star of Venus Trailing behind. Moonbeams casting light On the waves,

Just a small part of me wants strife to go away, to return to a kinder time. Am I just losing courage? Life is draining me,

Beneath the bustling, hustling mind, deep inside, there is an oasis of calm.

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

An owl hoots on this cool, crisp Spring night. A sound that’s distant yet echos

When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer