Welcome To The Tangle
If I wander, I could linger,
among the mossy sentinel boulders,
where the moon-glow laughter gathers,
and seeps back down to the river.
Heya tangled river woman,
teasing hippies out,
to the dancing pools and green-leaf shade.
Heya paper cups,
and glowing strings,
all the things that gather here,
twist themselves, unfurl themselves,
a spiral in seach of a center.