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Poem	up the ladder and round the bend age spirals like a convolvulus its bells break into the light catching breath with their beauty but how in the sightless earth its roots work to a wise agenda for all the seasonal pleasures sun and open air afford us we grow below more tightly (knowing squeezed into essence) till each pinch of inner space networks our darkest truths the convolvulus keeps climbing probing wise tendrils into gaps the sun still clings to - and finds fresher vantage points to spell its bright peals out - age stays young turns its patterns into poems flowers are to ring out loud what roots keep tight about and up the ladder round the bend dances stately or bizarre measure the joy of living how lightly we twine or twist they trumpet to the stars and we are stretched ourselves between the fixed earth and the sky's impossible dimensions such a step we have to make to keep in tune with both age brings the calm to do it our plant has been spaced out into its true proportions nothing has to boast to let its grace show - content to be up the ladder and round the bend
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