Today the cords just want to be cords and the beads, beads.
A pause in time; fingers basking in the autumn sun like lazy nursing sharks...
No cutting, knotting, weaving, typing, thinking.
Oh but the mind she never stops. She somersaults, works out a knot.
Frets over what she owes to be and she is not
I push my lazy little fingers into action.
Cut, knot, weave, type...think
All one should be and one is not.