Wild Mind Wild Earth
“...the unsayable reality of contact...” -D. Hinton
Steel needle
pierces the weave
Blunt head. Big eye
Pulls strands of
turquoise, coal &
alabaster
What the heart carries
Then wrap & tie
encircling
A basket for
the ten thousand things
Thunk of snow
slips off the roof
Startling. Settling
into melt
The world skips a beat
like the deep silence
in a song. In a poem
Happy snow day, Art!
ReplyDeletea wonderful day for weaving. the Lone Cone Library in Norwood has a marvelous Wednesday meetup each week led by Bob McKeever where we sit and chat for two hours and I get to do my basketry
DeleteSo apropos with all this snow!
ReplyDeleteI spent the morning shoveling, and the afternoon weaving. I love when it snows! And I don't ski anymore, but I do love snowshoeing -- slower, no crowds and lots of icy beauty
Deletebeautiful, Art - and love that "Thunk of snow"
ReplyDeleteThat sound was so pronounced and the word is so close to "think", which David Hinton and Dolores point out is how so much of our poetry manifests, but the Taoist tradition, the Bardic tradition, makes connections not by thinking but by perceiving. And "thunk" was a true perception as the snow yesterday surprised me, falling off the roof.
ReplyDeleteI love you, Artful. xxo Sayrah
ReplyDeleteLove you too, Sayrah!!!
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