Important decisions lie ahead and murky crossroads beckon. I take a deep breath and think of my mothers eyes.
When I am a stooped old woman, alone in my insanity, I will remember my mothers eyes. They shine with their own magic. They look with dignity and a quiet pride. My mothers eyes laugh and tease.
Fall has entered the atmosphere. Prepare. Wear the words of a poet and exert what you possibly can. Gather notes. And for once, not just wear them like your outer garments-your coats. Inhale a little...
Could you see God with my eyes
I would tear them out and grant them.
Could you hear God with my ears
I would lay them at your feet.
I want to show you lies
And the years you’ve wasted in them
I want to share my faith love,
Taste it, see? It’s sweet.
Poems 
