Hurrah!

Still writing poetry!

joy

the swift slip of yarn
through practised fingers
smooth wood needles
sharp and blunt

the roll and roar of language
ebb and rise
the music in my head

when words collide
and crash upon the page
the rightness of the finished line

the full moon winks
over the rounded shoulder
of the half-dressed hill
the world is silent

only my needles click
only my pen moves