By Leonard Bird
Slow down, old friend. Come Home
Listen to the trilling meadowlarks.
Celebrate the magic song of life
Shining in this field at late light.
Succumb to the mood of the pale moon,
Who casts her spell upon the tides,
Bewitching every creature of the sea.
Inhale the pinon-scented breeze of dawn,
When dew sits like hand-strewn pearls
Upon the fading light of autumn leaves.
Relax, my friend. In all these wonders
And a thousand more, life still sings.