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I want to say
I love you.
And, I’m happy.

I am surrounded by things,
A world created
Long time in the making.

A home.

Dishes and things,
Books, papers, supplies
20 years worth or so.

Of doing.

Now, it is finally
The new year
Of the Horse.

The Chinese lunar year.

The only new year
That really counts
Because it seems so real.

Concrete.

I sense the change.
This is the time
To begin again.

May peace be with you.

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting

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A person is a person
For however long
The ride lasts.

A ticket in
Thanks to the mechanics
Of lovemaking.

An instance when
The whisper from the unknown
Shifts the act.

A nudge, a push, a shove
Into the being of:
One of us.

Life to celebrate begins and ends
For however long
The ride lasts.

Tickets, they come in
All colors, sizes, shapes
And, mostly accepted.

Too busy, too focused
Each to his own activities
No notice of yours.

Doing what we do
Not telling all of it
Keeping some distance, of course.

But, wait: “Hey, hey you!
I need your help.
Can you buy this sweater?”

The kids need food.
The kids need new shoes.
And, the car needs some gas!

For the ride, you know…

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting

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A cigarette – it used to be,
In my grandmother’s day.
A drink, a good strong one!
My father had, even at the office!
A glass of Chablis, or Napa burgundy,
Port wine with lunch?

Peace for a few minutes,
Calmness, intelligence.
Shoulders relaxed.
Clear thinking snatched
From the confusion
That is life.

It doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.
The disorder spills out
In a tangled ball.

 

Someone over there sits with two sticks
A ball of color, in between.
Wrapping, looping and pulling through
Each is a stitch.

Over and over, over and over again, and again, and again.
The stitches fall down,
Form becomes apparent.

Nothing to do with mouth or eyes,
No smoke blows out.
No clinging to the glass.
No disappointment, that it didn’t last,
No lingering flavors.

The taste is of another kind.
Warmth, sustenance,
Simple math becomes a thing to hold.

Happiness is being let loose
Into something, for someone.

 

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting
(The photo is of knitting that was begun in Africa by an unknown person. I wonder if she knows how happy it makes me to have this small piece of the work of her hands!)

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I drive a vehicle with 200 needles.
Miles consist of rows,
Upon rows, upon rows.

Horizontal at first glance,
Falling from the knitting machine.
Turned to become the vertical, graceful lines
Of the famous, Loretta Warner coats.

Colors chosen at random
In the midst of the back and forth motion
The work of my hands in use with the tools
I could not live without.

Color groups predetermined, gathered
Prior to the journey.
Act as the guide, the map,
Where the destination is always a surprise.

Here, a photograph, liberty taken with
Beloved editing tools
To reflect the not so straight lines
Which have become my life’s work.

Always,
Loretta Warner, I love Knitting