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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



Shooting the close-up shots of my Short Coat with Plaited Fronts
The accident of having my camera at settings too dark,
I saw something that amazed me.

May I please present “My World”.

So clearly I see the connection to all things.
That it slaps me in the face.
How is it that the world shows up as a button?

All I know is, I’m grateful!

Always and forever, your seamstress in Berkeley,