Called ‘Cat’s Cradle’, the art displayed,
when grandma knitting, wool around,
absorbing, simple, games we played,
that finger picking, cheek by jowl.
We focussed as the shapes evolved,
those intricate and complex moves;
so often, the puzzle nearly solved,
dissolved as laughter as our end.
Manoeuvres, wrist, olecranon,
as joining hands in palmistry,
all fingers, thumbs, in unison,
a fragile tether, at its best.
I don’t believe the cat’s claw pawed
with tales of nine lives, nine tails whipped,
but grandmas passed, as stored tears poured –
grave cradle thoughts was scene I saw.
Those threads between us taught us slack
was never route to fulfil dreams;
but, give as given, handing back,
the way to track on pilgrim’s trail.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com
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Steven Kingsnorth writes the most wonderful, thought provoking poems. They can evoke wonderful memories, stir the imagination and somehow enable the reader to think differently and appreciate more. He is a word magician. It would be so good to have a book of his poems.