Best of Days-- Short Poems

Santa Cruz, the early morning’s cold air damp and gray than sunshine emerges gold and folds into the maple and piney leaves as curelium takes over high on the hills above while over the ocean to the west still lies the misty skies of blue haze He sat and told me not to read not NIH or Tumor Insight or any such journal, he told me to stop wondering what would be when that happened he and Stanford would tell me what I could do. the disease was very rare, at 2 years I was well beyond the norm. he told me to enjoy the bright purple sun laced flowers, the white intensity of the moon, to walk my dogs to watch them play to be alive to the bird songs before the winds and waves come crashing through the darkness of the storm ocean waves roll in foam winds howl clouds darken streets roll mother earth takes hold