the world is not mine for keeps

the world is not mine for keeps,
but does a dance in spirals 

I hop on for a little while, do drop off
the  merry go round when dizzy,
and tired of all the phony prophets--
and the prospects--of getting 
nowhere in a hurry

then reach for trunks of trees,
those  grounding mechanisms, 
manufactured in a mind
content to be going nowhere

with all the time in the world
to worship ships, whales,
and the softness of old
flannel work shirts, the scent 
of basil mint, and the taste 
of caramel


rearranging garden gloves-
in order of importance-the  canvas flowery ones hold up the best
in a rainy bone chill spring

I wear my long hip length green
sweater closer to my heart, pray for fairness between friends and neighbors,
stomp  on person made fences, and
leap over boundaries

bringing beads and string, green tea, and honey over  the gritty distinctions
that once created unrest.....

I continue to breathe in whole worlds
of  southwestern winds--
ones georgia would love

wrapping a dry wool blanket
in  large crimson geometric patterns
around  my rounded shoulders

I look up on a starless night,
sit as still as a book of poems--
and feel a thinning melting earth spin


~kate lamberg (c) '19



 

  'a dance in spirals' by kate lamberg (c) '18