The Colgate Scene
May 2004

The poet returns
 

The Rounds

I walked home feeling proud
because you are beautiful
and the sun warm.
If we were to cut
through the core of the earth
would there be a star formed
by seeds as there is in the apple,
that famed fruit?

Dyed into the cloth
which hangs
at the foot of my bed is
a series of concentric circles that seem,
according to some narratives,
to be responsible for one another.
The light of the star born
of seeds breeds affection;
the deer, the partridge, and the poplars
exist thereby,
and when all is complete,
again there is light.

Is this impulse seen
most readily in children and cats at play,
to turn and turn upon oneself,
a reflection of some circumambulation
which orients us in space?
There are those who circumambulate
bodhi trees, those who walk
'round the tombs of their saints,
there too is Grampy
walking the fields,
making the rounds.

On that morning I'd realized
what a child I was,
though I couldn't say it,
aren't we all spinning
to make ourselves dizzy, chasing
our tails to get a good look
at our backsides,
keeping at arms length the thing
which is our center.

© Jennifer Kietzman 2004

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