Spirals fascinate me:
They ascend
By such gentle gradations.

Little green spirals
Of the vine
That creep softly-
Then lay strong hold
On stony crevices,
Lifting a great travailing growth
Toward Heaven.

Silver spirals of smoke
That carry upward,
In visible exhalations
The spirit of fire;
Gold tendrils of hair
That coil lovingly
About my fingers,
And fasten upon my heart.

My soul, on its journey,
Turned by obstacles - frustrated,
Moves not directly upward,
But by a spiral staircase
Seeks its path to the stars.