The Wheel of the Year
is turning, turning,
my labyrinthine path
twisting forward and back
never as simple as
going round the edge
(going round the twist?)
even though I know
where I’m going-
to the next Sabbat –
and there’s only one path –
day by day
night by night –
I don’t know how I’ll get there.

I’ll have many more miles
on me when I arrive
than I ever expected,
(it looked simpler on the map!)
so many more miles
than just the circumference
of the Wheel that encompasses
the time-filling curve
the delicate filigree
of the winding way I walk
spiraling in and spiraling out
through the microcosm of nights and days
to the macrocosm of the year
and the life.

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