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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.

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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
Follows.

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

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Lost,
Wondering,
Alone.

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

Questions arise.
What matters?
This day.

Things
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
Restriction.

The knot may become untied.

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

Merely, becoming unbound.

Creative,
Playing with what’s possible.
One laid open.

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting