Searching for beauty has become a quest

at this stage of my life,

less confident in tomorrows

and more appreciative of time.

I drive the same route to work

every day, as I have for years,

when this morning’s sunrise struck;

the impact pulled my car aside.

I sat with the engine groaning

against the chill March morning,

still frigid, my breath caught in the cold

damp welcome to the day.

Cedars drop their raincoats in rhythm,

their beats give tempo for the moment.

Red-Orange and Magenta paint the sky

from Crayola childhood Saturdays…

Afternoons of quiet becoming

the person I was meant to be; dreams

illuminated with possibility— endless...

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