Whirlygig

I take a windmill’s three-armed form,

triangle’s source,

unfurling nine.

I like to see you opening breath

to receive My spark of energy,

to move your little work along

(no end to it!)

There's plenty more

waiting to kiss you,

on the blow!

You’re wise to learn to disengage

when I'm more feisty

than your arms can hold.

I wonder when you womben

will wake up

(Many hands make small work.)

and embrace

My energy

without an interface.

I could make your heads spin!

I could make your wombs whirl!

It's about time someone

turned your wheel

to spin your fortune

past dead lotteries,

to open you

to what the children need!

There's spinning ‘round,

but also, spiraling forth!

Spiders’ and spinsters’ bodies

open wide

in ecstasy, to allow

the creative thread to emanate:

unfurling

vibrant networking of hope.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018