You can’t catch

without fishing –

got to let it dangle, bait the lull

a little, wait

with a line


These lines are string

noodles of whisper-white yarn

taughtly held, intoning silence

with promised weave

like the still piano keys

beside the loom


Put the nettle on


Watch the leaves

Slowly lose themselves

Spinning in verdure

ready the wool

dip it in to a guess

drip-dry any answer

in occasional sun, walk away –

still fishing –

don’t speak to anyone