This way .. that way; clockwise … anticlockwise
I miss you … I love you; I “feel” you … I heart you
We shall sing the tunes of the weaving baskets
And we shall celebrate at every weaved strand that is completed
Waiting to catch sight of how it will look at the end.

It takes a lot to even start out with that wool
And it calls for winnowing patience
The kind we see in a germinating plant
The same type we fan in a young love string
The strain that is willing to spend time on one thing

For the pleating and tucking is painstakingly slow
Slow as the flow of the little stream to the dam
But in due time, it does get to where it was going
The twists and turn take shape
And the intertwine of the knit comes to a tail end

And when the turn-overs and turn-unders are wound up
What we have is a work of crowning achievement
And the eyes don’t see the tangles and the mesh
All they marvel at is the prettiness and fairness of the basket
The basket made by our love’s tuck and twine