UNDOER OF KNOTS
I like to see my mother’s fingers commanding slim batons of needles.
Colors chime in, ordered into cohesion by the grace of her hands.
Today I caught her undoing a tangle of ancient wool.
I watched her fingers loosen knots, persisting, pulling gently.
I’d have tossed the useless snarl away. I’d have bought a new skein.
But she was humming as she liberated the old muddle. She had time. She was already imagining what she’d make with it.


Lord give me the patient, trusting calm perseverance to trust the process
I wonder if unraveling knots in wool equates to solving life's knots