Medicine Wheel
The people we call Cheyenne, Crow, Sioux say instead
the Painted Arrow, the Little Black Eagle, the Brother People,
all three working walking the four ways
of the many spokes of the medicine wheel,
a one-size life-size steering wheel for all,
its living flame larger truth in water,
cloud, flight, sacred smoke,
sundanced day,
moondanced night.
Love – Art by Mary Platz Hughes
quartered east, west, north, south
each to their own master,
and follow until you see your reflection
in the mirror of your river
self to self selfless,
at last honest
Walk wheel,
work heal.
– Smith, 3.2.2014
SPRING IN THIS AREA OF THE WORLD
Leftovers from winter’s mulching appetite,
powerfully trampled-over crumble of
dead-looking brown
Spring in
this area of the world
whimsy and enough
spare time
to sometimes
be bored and then
have to make
discoveries
Looking at my hands at seeming random–
what kind of personality evident
in the splay of my fingers
Medicine Wheel – Photo by Steven B. Smith
The almost eternal wheel
of the sun, the lengthening
of the days forces sprouts up
through the interlace: strong
daffodils, new leaf
Gestalt of the seasons’ wheel like
putting my palms to it, wondering
at the various looks of my hands,
feminine veins and
ring what got them
from there to here
Easing in the the seasons:
an easy wheel, sometimes something
eases loose and quick, yet still gentle
like peddles on my child’s bike
That’s what I’d like, warm wet breaths
Easy
Ribbons flapping on the handlebars
of my bike backsplashing Spring
puddles muddy on my legs
Easy
~ Lady
Wheeling
Running with the leaves blowing with the wind
sun and sky and cloud
blue bicycle bound.
~ Steven B. Smith