I Saw Her
Dancing
Nothing moves in a straight
line,
But in arcs, epicycles, spirals and gyres.
Nothing living grows in
cubes, cones, or rhomboids,
But we take a little here and we give a little
there,
And the wind blows right through us,
And blows the apples off the
tree, and hangs a red kite suddenly there,
And a fox comes to bite the apples
curiously,
And we change.
Or we die
And then change.
It is many as
raindrops.
It is one as rain.
And we eat it, and it eats us.
And
fullness is never,
And now.
~ Marge Piercy
~
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