My stalk like pen
moves in wind
like corn on a summers eve.
Words call tickling air in breath
as pen takes a stance.
Corn husks feed the hunger
that grows to plant this moment.
A moment where poetry is within

And ink will mount stallion white page
as if pen needs to catch the words.
Words to be corralled inside a trotting verse.

Perhaps later I will sit by fire
inside my tire
and hear foal poem neigh--
I say with hooray.

I see my mom in clouds
as I walk.
Feel her In the gentle breeze,
and melody of birds.

I hear her in my mind
ushering me along
with guidance
so I be blessed...
And see her in dreams
as she moves
in realms of the after-life,
peaceful.

I shall give my prayers
and wishes
to the stars
that shine like precious moon.

Give my aspirations
as Father Obe of night
has its star children
collect wishes.

And When moon shines brightest
it means wishes were received
He smiles
with rays of light
to doll them out
to passing angels.

And then I am delivered into joy.
to shine just like one of his stars.

Everyday should be celebrated
as if it is one's birthday.
That way gratitude lives
with smiles and peace.