Yarn

Sometimes my life spins past me
Like a ball of yarn bouncing too fast
For me to catch a tail
And weave the stories that make sense of it all

The colors are mixed. The dark the light and the heavy
The scarlet threads of celebration
All twist in circles round an ever-spinning ball

When I stop telling, still the threads coil and loop
Some of them wrapped beneath and lost, some grown more vibrant and substantial in the circling
I watch in fascination and think perhaps I will let them go, let them grow
But suddenly I catch a little thread and that one ties to another and another
And there I am, weaving again

I used to worry that if I wove too fast I would run out
Would come to an ending thread hanging in air
But I see now that the faster I weave
The faster life spins the yarn back to me

There will always be more to tell
Which could be a panic all its own
But I think I am happy here
With yarns to last a lifetime.