On a porch in Amish country
a wise grandmother of the first
order knits a crooked path
Once it is of suitable length, she
covers it with dry tobacco leaves
Then casts it up past the eaves
up past the stars
up past the edge of the world
Until the path finds a black hole
in the sky and is gone
And the grandmother just sits
there with her plants and knits
no more.
She just holed up there? :)
ReplyDeleteGood use of the words.
I love, 'knits a crooked path.' This is charming.
ReplyDeleteThis is a very interesting story. It leaves me with a few questions about grandmother.
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean, Pat. She started out being very quaint and Amish (?!?) and then, before I knew what was up - she went all covenly and a bit sci-fi ... go figure.
ReplyDelete