the way a tendril winds
spiraling into steadfastness
clockwise or counter-clockwise
there’s wisdom in it
every time i circle my home ground
i grasp it a bit better
till i can wind through the house at night
without even having to see
hands and feet discover
how much they already know
not the exact number of steps
but the way they feel
iambic trochaic
anapestic spondaic
my feet and the ground
are old lovers after dark
i make a circuit of the trails
the milky way changes direction
thank-you-ma’ams dug last year
no longer make me stumble
but sometimes i forget where i am
and a moment of pure terror descends
and when sleep sits on my eyelids
other places i’ve known come back to me
or me to them legs twitching
taking their measure once more
though dream steps follow
a slower stranger rhythm
and sometimes in the morning i’ll ache
in unexpected places