The Volute

t h e v o l u t e

Every year, when it comes
time for my birth day, to day —

I think about the numbers,
one to the other, and what

added summation they
might make, to mean.

So now, in 54 turns
around the sun, this forms

9, the volute, that drawing
outward, a vortex

to what was begun, and
what will be found, and what

will be seen, along the coursing
of that curve, spinning out.

And this time, I contemplate
that looking down to the

water, I see the stars, yet
in them, the sky, found

that great curving above
me the forms the arc

of experience, in being
somewhere new. Yet,

perhaps in the beginning of
the volute, just starting

its arc, making way, to
the new outward reach

of one’s life, an ever moving
curl, the long tale, unfurled.

Tim | 54 | d e c a t u r i s l a n d

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