Knit, perl,
It takes patience,
Forgetting the million other things
Racing through
Your brain.

Mistakes are either accepted or tugged at,
All the good work coming undone along,
Some metaphor that doesn’t escape attention
But is pushed down
Mistakes seem to be all
To harken back to,
And without them
This would just be
A ball
Of yarn.

There is a pace set
As comfort sets in,
This whole thing stops being a crisis,
Remembering that
Samurai did this
To make and mend
Their socks,
Because without sure footing,
They could not sit in their saddles
And hit their targets –
They were swordsmen second,
Archers first,
The sword was not esteemed as
One notch, one breath,
One piece of wood passing over another and a cord
Taut, to send one soaring.


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