learning to spin


green gazing through glass doors
as rain pounds ecstatic
on ginger lily leaves
my foot holds
its steady rhythm
for the wheel that turns
and turns clockwise
for the thread that pulls
and twists its magic –
eyes averted
from spindle whorl and bobbin
so my hands may teach me
what my heart already knows.
ancient wrinkled beautiful
the three spinners sit with me
one to guide my foot
one to guide my hands
and one to guide my heart.



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