Turning
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58 THE MINNESOTA REVIEW CAROL HANSEN TURNING Seasons. Beard wheat and harvest. Our senses are circular, sane as grass. You are telling the truth. Turning in sleep you snore, sloughing scales. Your pond is stocked with light, acres of stars. Pages lift, a corridor lengthens, greening. Rhythmic as lilac, snow, we suffer change. Leopard and plow turn, pad the earth. Beauty and terror, the intersection of quickening stems. Here by the lamp left on your eyes glow twice. Aquamarine, a gifted balance. Yours, yours. Thorn and tongue. ...
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