Wheel…

Wonder, worry, want:

A grinding of gears

Until dust…

Bone into ashes,

Blood into rust,

The yearning from turning–

Decay from distrust.

A cycle of flurry,

Of winter-spun lace,

Ice-melted years

Like sleep-induced fears

In tatters…

The winds blow it ’round.

–C. Green

Wheel

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