My passion for the circus didn't ignite until four or five years ago. I'm still surprised by it.

I started vaulting, and met a young woman who'd performed for several years as a vaulter in Ringling Brothers. At the time, she was doing fire-twirling/juggling/dancing. For fun. A woman at my children's school was a trick rider in her twenties. Our vaulting club had a clinic with a member of the Cirque de Soleil-inspired equestrian extravaganza Cavalia. The married propietors of our local western saddlery met and fell in love at Disney World in Paris doing stunt riding. (She's a red-headed Parisian. He's a cowboy and a bronc rider.) My kids have attended circus camp at Wise Fool NM for two summers in a row, and one of the highlights of the season for me is getting to paint the faces of the little circus performers at their end-of-camp show or volunteering to spot kids during a stilts-walking lesson. I endeavor to teach my big Percheron Toby circus tricks. (If nothing else, one of these days, you will be able to catch our act in my rusting round pen.) I would love to join Wise Fool's women's circus one of these days (They travel to the little, tiny, out-of-the way villages in rural New Mexico and perform for children), although I don't know if they have room for a mountain-sized Percheron!

Anyway, you've got to read this marvelous poem by Paintbrushpoet. It's about ... you guessed it ... a woman ... and the circus. Actually, I think I may have actually seen the woman about whom she writes. Right here in Santa Fe.

I am always in awe of someone who can speak volumes and paint such a larger-than-life picture in a few artfully chosen words. Read it all.