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