One hundred steps to the center of the labyrinth,
and light enters the world as gently
as the pilgrim making her way to the center.
Can you tell the moment when the foxtail
takes shape out of the night
and the pine needles assume their points?
In the pause between
and breathing in,
the last star fades into the brightening sky,
gone to the place you journey in your sleep.
I watch my thoughts dart off
like a startled flock of sparrows
in twenty directions.
I have written ten thousand words
that don’t mean a thing.
Now the solstice calls me to the labyrinth,
and my feet long for the one hundred steps.