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  • Writer's pictureDr. Vin


A new year feels like the first day of school

I’m ready to fill my calendar

And start fresh.

I am a water-color painter,

a memoir-writer,

a ukulele player,

And a spiritual seeker.

Then I get sick

Or somebody dies.

End up in a fight,

Knocked over by lies.

I take a break

From the plans I made

As I hide in my room

The calendar fades.

The eucalyptus grove calls me

With its smell of green hope

Sends finger-like leaves

As a life-saving rope.

Through the trees I see sky

Dressed in three shades of blue

Dancing with white clouds in their feathery hue.

I exhale slowly and my body feels warmer

This place allows me to shed my armor.

I feel more open and I think of you

In the arms of your grove in Twenty-Twenty-Two.


January 7, 2022


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