April Anthology 2016: The shape of my Library

I'm sitting in the hub of a wheel,
White spokes reaching in towards to clouds and light,
And the rim a flicker of shadow and green.
It turns so slowly that we can't see.
It rolls the world forward for hearts and minds.
There are cats and cartographers and carnivals
In the light through the spokes,
Elephants and egrets and enchantments
Tracing the rim, filling it up to the brim,
And a new imagination breathed alive
For every full turn,
Every laughing "open sesame" at the opened doors.