Movement in Pi (π)
It is a poet’s most dreaded moment
When there is nothing to write
The entire world within is dead
Which makes all things without the same
Even though the sun shines brightly
Even though the grass is being mowed
Even as the wasps and bees swirl around the window panes
And the ceiling fan just quietly keeps going around
I am much more like that fan right now
Though I don’t think dead things go in circles
So maybe there is a hope after all
Just the fact there is a movement in pi (π)
Is enough to bring a spark of life
So once again I see the plan
That even in the midst of the dreaded death
There is nothing to write, but there is nothing but life
I just love the Circle
Songs From the River 