That Green String

It's still tied to the whole in a snap
the top one on my jean jacket,
that green string.
Back when everything was in doubt,
like now,
we would all knit on Thursdays
at the bar with our beers or wine
by our sides.
We all seemed to be in transition
new lives shifting
new friendships.
The tumult of uncertainty and
winterness was everywhere.

New England cold in Colorado.
But those Thursday nights there
was a bit of lightness (of heart)
and new adventures planned.
Still days were counted in between.
In a long lingering conversation
(of art and books and politics and music)
we wanted to remember how engaged
and warm it felt.

So each of us cut from our skeins
a little bit to tie where they might be remembered
through the hole in my top layer
a bit of cotton a bit of cotton still remains
each time I see it my mind echos
with the warmth of beer and friends
'there's always knitting' said with humor and love.