See skein held wide by stretch out hands,
grandmother drawing it to ball,
then teaching, as he her own had done
the yarn of how cat’s cradle runs,
a magic trick to eyes of child.
See parcel crudely tied with string,
bumps breaking out beneath loose knots,
brown paper bags for groceries
reshaped as gift for Mother’s Day,
and that a pocket money’s worth of fruit.
See links of pen-friends through the mail,
clink grips of chains that fetter down,
the claws that hold the jewel’s set,
throat gold from which hangs crucifix,
those threads between us, hope and sad.
See, fine-hair spin of spiders’ webs,
yet sticky spring of trampoline
which spite hard beating wings of flight,
spreads glue, the greater flap ensues,
all fight subdued, vibrations snared.
In earth’s breadth, connected for now
both prey and preyed, a rosary
of love for others, sanctuary,
the weft and warp that weaves through all.
Maybe, Son’s ray, we’ll understand.
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 published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion.
His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/