I’m knitting socks on the beach.
Crazy ̶ and even the yarn
curls away, like hair made unruly
by the weather. They are pilgrim socks
and will soon be walking in Spanish.
With each stitch I knit a small hope:
no blisters on the trail
no falls, slips or snowstorms
no sinister encounters and
I can see my daughter’s raised eyebrow –
so negative! I change to yes:
warmed olives in a terracotta bowl
a toast in local beer
sound sleep in a hostel bed
good companions on the road.
I knew when I first held her –
eyes squeezed tight against the world –
she’d need to let me go
so I make small talismans
to show the gods
I’d walk songless
through the underworld
to bring her home.
Catherine Bateson, February 2014
Lost the label to the wool, but one of those self-striping yarns that does a fake Fairisle thing as well. Clever! (Could be Opal?) Plain sock - cast on 60 stitches work on two circs.
Put down your knitting and have a look at the Tuesday Poem Blog. Not only is there a weekly guest-edited poem, you can surf through other Tuesday Poem bloggers. Not bad for a beginning-of-the- week treat!