Santa Fe holds spring in one hand, winter in the other. The place where they meet is near at hand, or, rather, underfoot.
The ridgetop spiral, aka, Sanctuary of Descent, Transformation, Renewal. My preferred Easter liturgy, birthday ritual (love you, El), and walking meditation.
Meanwhile, remember this scene from back in Ordinary Time?
Just me, Nippy, and pages of poems unspooling in the sunshine.
There are a few more people in the picture, these days. A few less pages.
Still, the spiral persists, seen or not.
I’ll keep walking it till I get there.
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