yarn settles in baskets I've kept for years
professing in ways my mind may not fathom
yet tells a tale
much like winter's cold fingers
which wrap me in a yarn as thin as spiderwebs
yet intentions are high
and snow shall soon melt
on rat's bones
and forgotten morals
we shall weep
we shall pray
for as long as we live
our ancestors shall remember
and hope
as we dance
around the fire much needed
'till spring shall awaken
and that yarn in which you speak
will begin to move as well
knitted in scarfs
that won't cover us for long
only 'till dawn's early break
and the morning shall assault us
with crimson
and hues of teal
and we'll dance again
'till night it's-self
will come to rest
in those vacant baskets
filled with sorrow
and the forgotten ashes
on a bonfire once roaring with heat
but still we shall weep
and still we shall pray
and dance
among flowers
until that spiderweb
wraps us once more
