The Weaver

She holds the straw between her hand & her mind
She holds her craft down deep in her heart
There is a place she visits all of the time
She weaves the universe of which she�s a part

One fiber woven in & out of the side
Holding the shape & giving strength to the frame
The top is open with nothing to hide
Filled only with love this basket carries no shame

Fingers move with the grace of the wind
At any moment they may burst out & sing
Living her history she weaves it in
Embracing the future & what it will bring

Attaching the handle she uses much care
She can�t foretell what the basket might hold
Lining the bottom she knows it will tear
�Cos when bound by time everything must grow old