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Should we celebrate it?

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This is a poem about what to make for your father.

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Reflections on the time passed in the quantity of 365 days of one year. Transition in the new year though an opportunity to evaluate but still far from any final ultimatum. The battles of life do not have the finite quantification of one year. So whatever the state is at the end of year, is just a mere snap-shot of things-in-progress and not necessarily any verdict in terms of pass or fail. One should move on the path, one is on, taking the new year just another sun-rise breaking into a new day…to create…toil…build…and moving on.

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Winter is early this year. So, we have to always be in advance. It means that we can live our lives.

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I’ve not fond of the winter weather because it makes me feel so bad. For those of you that do, I simply say enjoy.

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Thanksgiving poem.

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This article is about Spain.

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The Indian Summer in North America makes the sky bright. It is clear all over the land. You wish you can walk more hours.

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A time for happiness.

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A summer poem.

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