The Keeper Of The Knot



I remember dancing beads and tiny sprawling hands,
needles and bobbins of different colored threads
 tossed on a blanket while sitting on knees

First a crystal then a bead
and next a shiny pearl
and Sister's little fumbling hands
had stitched one to her sock

Mending is for another time
I used to wink and tease
 while threading the eye of the needle
with a bobble and a grin

The fragrant scent of fresh milled soap
caught the shirt tail of a breeze
and skipped across our wooden floors
 tossing our pensive curls

I remember that tired old quilt
and Mom sitting with us on the floor
patiently teaching us to make our wares,
our crafts would bring us more

Bring us more than a given bike,
or a handed over dollar,
more even still as a wiser adult,
a thrifty self provider

Bring us more than thieving hands
could ever grasp in vain
I learned to build with toddler's hands,
now mature, I teach the same

First a crystal then a bead, I always tell myself
Sequence is a matter of skill,
drawing near the clasp
The clasp of course is hardest part,
 I always dread that part

But the clasp is like a wise old Sage ....
The Keeper of the Knot



by: Carmen Wright
2003 used with permission
Moonmaidn6@aol.com


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