She went to Knox County each spring <br />to collect wool <br />from freshly sheared sheep, <br /> <br />a basket brought home <br />for carding and dyeing <br />with the bark, root, and leaf she had collected on walks. <br /> <br />Over hot summer evenings <br />she spun and she hanked <br />on her son’s outstretched hands. <br /> <br />With autumn, and the beginning <br />of long nights, she began, <br />and so went the fall, so went the winter. <br /> <br />Her fingers knitted and pearled and cabled <br />the evenings away, row by row— <br />sweaters and scarfs for her children and grandchildren. <br /> <br />A bit of an enigma, she willed <br />harmony into her home from her seat <br />by the hearth, where she quietly cast-off serenity.<br /><br />Hanque O . . .<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/knox-county-wool/
