I decide
to skip
evening prayer
and journey
outside
instead--
to walk
the labyrinth
in the field--
a maze
in the grass
lined with
stones--
a walk of
contemplation.

I am reminded
of the puzzles
my youngest
traces in his
monthly magazine--
he likes
to start at
the finish
and work back.

I can see the
end before
I start--
the center
of a large
circle of paths
that twist
and turn
like Dante’s
concentric rings
of another world.

I enter
and make
the first turns,
coming so
close to the
center
early--
a sweet taste
of the finish--
a tease--
denied.

The turns
take me
farther away,
circling the
prize--
needing to
go to the far
country
to come home
again--

what a difference
from the
corn maze
we paid
to walk
late last summer--
not able to
see the end,
often retracing
paths already
taken,
until stumbling
upon a milestone
with an
aha!

Now
this set
of turns--
walking
half
the path--
takes me
almost to
the beginning--
back to
the start.

Then
a turn
to the far
quarter,
the sun
low in
the sky,
the wind
rushing
through the
pines--
colder.

The final
turn takes
half the
perimeter--
again to the
beginning,
but then
quickly
spirals
right and left
to the center,
the vortex
at the hub
of the rays,
of stone and grass--
boundaries
paths
clear
with each
sweep of
vision.

Clouds
roll in,
the wind
dies down,
and night
begins
to fall
again.

9 Mar 02


© Copyright 2002, E. Granger-Happ, All Rights Reserved.