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