I’m looking for paths.
The turning
—
Every thing turns
and spins in its
order. What, that?
I’ve been out, looking
at the stars, pondering
the turning. Listening
to the water, waves
like a river, riffling.
It’s turning, that
tide, a worldly
whirl, that
I sense, this moment.
And this dark
morning, I wonder
about that dawn;
she’s now far away —
but coming, in brilliant
light, later this morn
as she did, yesterday
looking east in
the rising. Seeing
that was a turning
for me, pondering
that movement
the larger shifting,
the patterning,
as she shows
herself, that long
path to her,
golden petals
to the embodiment
of light that
she is.
That’s one path —
seeing the turning.
—-
d e c a t u r i s l a n d