a poem by Terry Winer
From the 2007 Knitter's Review Retreat
November 8-11, 2007
Skeins of promise rest quietly in bins stacked against my wall.
Limitless potential energy locked inside each.
Waiting for the day they again take new form.
Animal furs twisted and spun under gentle tension.
Little treasures I bring into my home,
give them time to settle in and get to know the others.
Some I find forlorn in baskets of discounted and discontinued.
They wiggle little yarn tails and beg me to take them home.
I'm content to rescue them with no purpose in mind.
Some I buy on inspiration.
Images burst in my mind of what they might become.
Once home the reality of not enough, or too thin, or wrong color sets in.
Some are thoughtful gifts, though not enough to make the intended project.
And so many leftovers from projects either completed or abandoned.
The odd ball here and there fill in the empty spaces.
I take the bins down, remove the soft coils and spread them out around me.
I pick up each one and together we try to divine its purpose in my life.
I look, I touch, I dream. I sort them by their fantasies.
When it's time to pack the bins away again, some skeins remain with me.
Their moment has come.
Together we collect our tools, study the pattern, and cast on.
(Poem copyright Terry Winer)Return to the Knitter's Review Retreat wrap-up
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