Every morning she awoke
as he fetched cups and bowls

from the cabinet, the sounds
were gentle awakenings, like

sparrows hopping across
a window sill; oh,  so, still

and quiet the home
became.

Near blind
no longer able

to follow the path
under the bridge

to stream’s edge where
White-tailed deer bow

and drink
pink tongues flick,

eyes
wide.

My classmate Martha walked our school’s
halls for thirteen years, few students

talked to her because she drooled,
walked like a puppet, and had

greasy hair; there are  poems
I can not finish.

When you feel low,
Cross the high moon nearby

When you feel incomplete,
A full moon appears in the Indigo sky

When you feel distracted ,
Sit on the Earth to purify

When you feel doubtful ,
Jot down any feeling to identify

When you feel cranky,
Close both eyes to open your Third Eye

When you feel alone,
Converse with your angels nearby

When you feel weak,
Ask the moon to send Lights of positive stimuli

When you feel disoriented,
Clear your eyes so go ahead and cry

When you feel detached,
Expose your wings that of a butterfly

When you feel low,
Cross the high moon nearby