Full Circle

 What tells the wind

move certain ways

and what tells can you

read from these lines on my face

the taste of your home town

in another's embrace is 

an experience to behold

I'm aging but far from old

I'm often pensive when not jocular

and these rhythms of mood 

hold a small world, too big to paint 

like a corn crib near harvest holds the 

orange, September, moon in place

full circle is more than a cliché 

I believe it comes around in more than one way