the cabbage rolls

in a year of magical thinking,

when music from the 1960's

kept sinking

into the past along with Elvis and his slicked-back

Mississippi hair,

children looked up at the stars

and wondered what was there?

as do i.

the land upon which i walk,

the oceans and the sky

remain intriguing,

as do you!

and the grey owl

on her perch listening,

eyes glistening,

sat wondering why new houses were sprouting

high on her hillside 

above the free-flowing mountain stream.

and as if in a dream,

at high noon,

the Maasai danced in a colorful circle,

holding sticks and jumping to the moon,

imagining the black rhino in herds

of incomprehensible numbers

near the heights of Kilimanjaro.

and the Japanese,

in their ancient heroic voice

sang lustily to the Emperor,

like wrestlers undiminished by an opponent's 

relentless advance,

gaining advantage by giving ground.

and as the cabbage rolls

rolled across the enormous dinner tables

like lucky gypsy coins

and were caught by the smiling mouths

of ten thousand spirited Romanian dancers, 

the holiday music began to play,

in a year of magical thinking.