At her old house, post omelet, rose’d Venus stood:
Scared, caged bird nervously contemplating a chance.
As she paced back and forth across her floor of wood:
Should she venture out and fly to far-off France?
It was easy for others to advise her
on how, when and what she should do, where to go.
But she needed her loved Universe to surprise her
(like when she’d dined with Maya Angelou).
With her passport, small backpack, underwear, comfortable shoes,
she took a deep breath and launched her my way living.
Experiential, experimental, however she’d choose.
Taking, discovering, still rising, loving, giving.
At her request, this is an on-going birthday sonnet.
Because her best beat goes on! She is not done yet.