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my circle of life
round and round faster and faster i would ride my trusted banana-seated white horse up the hill down the small gulch i and my trusty steed encircling our house the new and the old imagining a whole new world of my own making or is it
it made sacred this space where i would sink my hands into the two sacraments of life dirt and water made mud pies some plain some with pebbles collected
climbing the walnut tree sitting in my home in the fork cracking the shells and eating the bitter flesh
tumbling down the hill face landing in dandelions slipping into the cave of the lilac bush breathing deeply as the earth cools my bones and soul as i proudly hold my pies of the earth
and as the snow falls building mountains i pack myself into layers of long johns jeans turtleneck sweater coveralls gloves mittens scarf stocking cap the bank robber ones that leave only small holes for eyes mouth nose
i play for hours fighting and laughing with friends called imaginary sculpting the mountain conquering it as it conquers me and i retire to the house unthawing as i build my tent of blankets over chairs falling into a deep sleep content in this sacred circle
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