The Spiral

Unfurling, uncurling -
leaves, tails, ferns, and wings.
Endless
beckoning, opening,
from snails, hands, and galaxies.

Spinning and swirling,
dizzying with perfection,
nature is
spiraling and cy-cl-ing,
its endless dance of direction.

Churning, never returning
to where it first began,
it leaves
us gasping and us grasping
for that last, lovely strand.

Forsaking and remaking,
the hour is mercy-less to all.
But still,
the flickering, the quickening,
shall break every winter's pall.

So wandering and squandering
our time, we've finally reached the end.
But here,
adventuring, we're entering
the New together, my friend.