A Birthday Poem

 The West Yorkshire Spinner socks (Pheasant) are done. They took me two weeks....the weather being so good I got drawn into weeding and generally rooting about on my knees outside. While knitting is a comforting pastime in dark cold evenings, for me warm days don't really go with the gritty feel of wool passing through my fingers. But this year I'd like to keep something going on the needles so that there'll be lots of hand knit Christmas presents completed before December.(Probably socks of course)

So now it's what socks to make with this bundle of leftover wool

I may need the help of  a ball of Fabel drops from Winnie's Wool Wagon.

https://www.winniethewoolwagon.com/index.html

Meanwhile since it is my father's birthday today here's a poem sort of about socks and other stuff.

The Brass Coal Bin

for my father

 

The clang of a brass bin-lid opening

Takes me back to you

Fishing a pair of black socks

Out of it

 

A cylindrical brass coal bin

Sporting sailing ships

Three of them heading for the Spanish Maine

Its ringed handles looped through the mouths of lions

 

Too good for coal, it bore your socks

I always borrowed them

And never gave them back

I think you minded-but never said

 

The clang of a brass bin- lid closing

Mouths shutting-

And silence-

And words never spoken

Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved