Rings

Rings

I feel I've been-
over and over again,

reborn.
Like a tree,

My life consists of rings,
One per year,

That grows tough and briny,
Then sheaf's off-

like the pages of a journal-
coats are shed,
reborn

each page

Renewed into this,
this you-

a new blank unknown
ready to be filled with poetic life

A most beautiful-

Calligraphy unjarred.