WINTER LABYRINTH
As feet squelch mud hair-netted by grass
the labyrinth grows down in December.
Worms leave their casts in piles of three.
Repeated mole boroughs hump the path,
create their own spiral tunnels, their own way-home.
Above ground grey mullein leaves oversee less tall grass.
Future walls await biennial foxglove now dormant.
Leathered leaves cling tenaciously to finger high oaks.
I walk the curve to the left, then veer right,
circling measured, always moving forward
yet seeing what was past,
stirring closer to winter's still centre.
Kaaren Whitney
Winter Solstice 2005
