Spirals fascinate me:
They ascend
By such gentle gradations.
Little green spirals
Of the vine
That creep softly–
Then lay strong hold
On stony crevices,
Lifting a great travailing growth
Toward Heaven.
Silver spirals of smoke
That carry upward,
In visible exhalations
The spirit of fire;
Gold tendrils of hair
That coil lovingly
About my fingers,
And fasten upon my heart.
My soul, on its journey,
Turned by obstacles — frustrated,
Moves not directly upward,
But by a spiral staircase
Seeks its path to the stars.
(Jewell Miller)
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