waxing philosophical

thoughts on a new year:

my portion unwinds before me
like a skein of worsted wool nudged carelessly from grandmother's lap
lying open-faced and plaint
couching plainly on spindly drifts of carpet
resting expectantly

until Time nimbly winds and weaves my threaded marrow and
ribbons of pulsing temple and secret sweat
into socks, mittens, scarves, doilies.
-a kleenex box cover
for heaven's sake.

for heaven's sake
we number breaths and steps
words, important speeches,
litanies all
places visited
faces memorized
ticket stubs and empty packets of garden seed
unsent letters
gifts given,
re-gifted,
withheld.

check them off as you knit, Time.
heaven hangs heavy at the end of your rope
and it dangles like a brass button to me.
come someday
we won't need that darning needle any longer.