Hanks of yarn wound into balls,
worked inch by inch into comforting garb.
Orb turned over and over,
lengths of colors pulled and stretched.
Fingers weave and eyes watch carefully
as a painstakingly beautiful pattern appears.
Would that love be so carefully wrought
upon this orb we call home.
lillian the home poet 
So true!
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Reblogged this on Dr. Crystal Howe.
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Thank you! So glad you enjoyed enough to reblog. Appreciate it. 🙂
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Amen, sister.
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Amen indeed.
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Yes indeed.
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Yes — especially in these days of vitriolic hatred spewing from so many sources.
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Wonderful metaphor. I used to knit a lot and just delight in the colors and textures of yarn but lately this old body, repetitive motion stuff, limits me.
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Ah, I do understand. And I’m what is called a “throw over” knitter….meaning I juse my right hand/arm to lift the yarn up and over for each knit stitch. Some have the yarn wound around a finger and it appears easier on the wear and tear of ligaments and muscles — but I’ve never accomplished that type of knitting skill. So every once in a while, I have to pop an Advil as my right shoulder will begin to ache. Glad you enjoyed! So, do you still have a “stash” of yarn? 🙂
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Oh yes. And I still go to it sporadically. But I used to like to knit prayer shawls and am dying to do another for a raffle…but I can’t take advil. I wind the yarn around my finger and have to keep my needle stabilized under my right arm. Weird, huh?
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