stones and circles

Something about stones
enduring sonnets of soil and pain
nexus of natural and artifice created
sings to the secret in all of us.

Something about stones
regardless of sharp turns, divided minds
speaks of the open beyond all of us.

Something about stones
reminds us of the infinite
declares our hope of mastery
by worship or by knife blade.

Something about stones
stays, silent speakers from somewhere.

And
Something about circles
odes swaying, coming back whole
saving mass from chaos in life or poem.

Circles feel safe, circles warm the child in us
Something about circles
keeps us enclosed just as a tree
takes its circles upward and the
sinkhole downward, swirling
and curling.

Something about circles
attaches to stones especially
to spin us deep and inward.

celia h. miles