The people we call Cheyenne, Crow, Sioux say instead
\nthe Painted Arrow, the Little Black Eagle, the Brother People,
\nall three working walking the four ways
\nof the many spokes of the medicine wheel,
\na one-size life-size steering wheel for all,
\nits living flame larger truth in water,
\ncloud, flight, sacred smoke,
\nsundanced day,
\nmoondanced night.<\/p>\n

$\"Love$
Love – Art by Mary Platz Hughes<\/p><\/div>Circle your water rocks on the ground
\nquartered east, west, north, south
\neach to their own master,
\nand follow until you see your reflection
\nin the mirror of your river
\nself to self selfless,
\nat last honest<\/p>\n
Walk wheel,
\nwork heal.<\/p>\n
\u2013 Smith, 3.2.2014<\/p>\n
<\/div>\n
SPRING IN THIS AREA OF THE WORLD<\/strong><\/p>\n
Leftovers from winter’s mulching appetite,
\npowerfully trampled-over crumble of
\ndead-looking brown<\/p>\n
Spring in
\nthis area of the world
\nwhimsy and enough
\nspare time
\nto sometimes
\nbe bored and then
\nhave to make
\ndiscoveries<\/p>\n
Looking at my hands at seeming random–
\nwhat kind of personality evident
\nin the splay of my fingers<\/p>\n
$\"Medicine$
Medicine Wheel – Photo by Steven B. Smith<\/p><\/div>\n
The almost eternal wheel
\nof the sun, the lengthening
\nof the days forces sprouts up
\nthrough the interlace: strong
\ndaffodils, new leaf<\/p>\n
Gestalt of the seasons’ wheel like
\nputting my palms to it, wondering
\nat the various looks of my hands,
\nfeminine veins and
\nring what got them
\nfrom there to here<\/p>\n
Easing in the the seasons:
\nan easy wheel, sometimes something
\neases loose and quick, yet still gentle
\nlike peddles on my child’s bike<\/p>\n
That’s what I’d like, warm wet breaths<\/p>\n
Easy<\/p>\n
Ribbons flapping on the handlebars
\nof my bike backsplashing Spring
\npuddles muddy on my legs<\/p>\n
Easy<\/p>\n
~ Lady<\/p>\n
<\/div>\n
Wheeling<\/strong><\/p>\n
Running with the leaves blowing with the wind
\nsun and sky and cloud
\nblue bicycle bound.<\/p>\n
~ Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n
<\/div>\n
Next page…<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Medicine Wheel The people we call Cheyenne, Crow, Sioux say instead the Painted Arrow, the Little Black Eagle, the Brother People, all three working walking the four ways of the many spokes of the medicine wheel, a one-size life-size steering…<\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/522"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=522"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/522\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":546,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/522\/revisions\/546"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=522"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=522"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=522"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}