Today

Torn walls.
Frame stands open.
Partner door loosed from its hinges
As if not knowing.

Light in the distance,
Cold air has taken its hold.
Crusty paint tries to remember
From where it came.

Fire?
Words?
Was it war?
A great divide?
That left me thus.

Yellow-greens of dying grasses,
Long, tangled, bent and wrinkled.
A dotted stepping stone is hidden now,
And another, and another,

Once with purpose.

 

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting
Poet and writer who uses all things textile – as a distraction.

Spring Season

One is holding,
Sitting with unbearable longing,
Impatient, waiting, trembling.

The other is bursting
Playing, full out
Alive.

One has begun
The unfolding process
Aware.

I so dislike the word
Process.

I want it all now.

Flower
Peeking from its very own petals
Girl rising from her previous
Self consciousness.

Fear shrugged off
Light warms.
Joyful.

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting