Knitting, Mea Culpa on me, I did not include you, so sorry.
Now for the poem. It is wonderful. My grandmother used to spin her own wool. One of my uncles received her spinning wheel.
My mom told me the cloth was course and itchy. It was warm, however.
This one for the Anthology -today as a matter of fact, yesterday's poem also.
I went through a poetically dry period as we got ready to move, but the words seem to be flowing again as we are getting resettled.
I seem to have rediscovered rhyme.