Jean Calkins		"tanka" rime coats morning grass; brisk air fills my gasping lungs after power walk ~ and in the stillness of dawn I find the depths of my ID.		Secret of the Light   Beyond the local trees, clouds hide the hills, but still they rise in grandeur in my mind. And in my mind I see a lonely light. Atop a ridge, a star has come to rest, to linger there, a symbol of some gift we would discover, should we visit there. There is a road that climbs that ridge, but search has not revealed its path to me. Try as I might, I am denied admission there, forbidden access to that hallowed spot, if that is what it is. How shall I know? How to discover what I chose to dream? Would I could fly on burnished wing and land beside that fallen star, to understand the reason for my dream. Then I would walk that hidden road and see where it would lead, so I might come again on earthly wheels to search for all the answers hidden there.