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Button lies heavy.
It’s hard, black surface
Standing still and
Finding small comfort
Among the shiny, wrinkled ribbons
Of deep red.

Button reaches –
Touching the sister ribbon
Of faded yellow-green
Wanting what the ribbons have.

Ribbons so entangled.
Enmeshed in the softness
That cloud-like yarn offers
In gratitude.

They hardly notice
Button’s earnest effort;
Feeling only the weight.
Glass button, a sharp contrast.

Button, oh ill shaped button
Not a square, nor a circle
Who made you?

How is it you have landed here?

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

Feathers fall from trees.
A tiny step upon a branch,
A slight shift,
Of movement.
The feathers float downward,
Gravity pulling for them.


Lighter than the wind
Dense against the stillness
Reaching ground.

Finding self.
Discarding self.
Tangled in a web of new color.

Wondering, wandering
And becoming still,
Only for the moment.

A cascade of engagement

A mass of uncertainty
Presents itself.

Feathers hold on
Everything seems to suggest
The perfection of the entanglement.

No use asking why.

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting


Thinking too much,
And, not nearly enough
How is this, my life?

Questions arise.
What matters?
This day.

That I can’t figure out
Their answers – not in my knowing.

I am tied
To a body,
To this place,
To these people.

I want to escape,
To the mountain where
I can fly.

Real connection
Needs none such

The knot may become untied.


Yet, never unraveled,
Nor falling apart, nor separated,
Nor disconnected.

Merely, becoming unbound.

Playing with what’s possible.
One laid open.

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting