Among twenty off-white skeins,
The only moving thing
Was the tip of the Boye hook.
I was of three minds,
Like a package
In which there are three Boye hooks.
The Boye hook swirled in the fluffy afghan, a small part of the pantomime.
A crocheter and a skein of yarn
Are one.
A crocheter and a skein of yarn and a Boye hook Are one.
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of unspun fleece
Or the beauty of well-spun yarn,
The Boye hook stitching
Or the stitch.
Icicle filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the Boye hook
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
A well-made afghan.
Oh strong-fingered women of CP List*,
Why do you image Brittany hooks?
Do you not see how the Boye hook
Whirls through the yarn
Of the projects around you?
I know noble crochet hooks
And intricate, compelling patterns;
But I know,too,
That the Boye hook is involved
In what I know.
When the Boye hook stitched out of sight, It
marked the edge
of one of many granny squares.
At the sight of Boye hooks
Stitching in a strong light,
Even the singers of YAS**
Would cry out in joy.
She rode over Rochester Hills
In a Toyota Corolla.
Once, a fear pierced her,
In that she mistook
The shadow of her gear shift
For a Boye hook.
The yarn is moving.
The Boye hook must be flying.
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing.
And it was going to snow.
The Boye hook sat
In the newly spun yarn.
Empress Cindy (c) 1997 all rights reserved (imesjr@sprynet.com)
Visit her web site now or book mark it for later.
(http://home.sprynet.com/sprynet/imesjr/homepage.htm)
* CP List refers to the Crochet Partners discussion group
**YAS refers to Yarn Acquisition Syndrome.
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