Dazzling

Cusp, a Spin

Turning horse is madder rose
spangled with buds
and maned in yellow;

you sit easy in the saddle;
the ups and downs
are smooth and graceful

as the inner points of a trefoil,
a carving at the meeting place
of ornamental arches.

Your eye traces vectors
that outline the lies
of the architecture,

bossed with stone roses.
Life turns its fair circles,
no rights to an angle.