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.
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