The Knot Maker
She sat by the sea with a net on her knee
Weaving knots to encompass the wind.
As each cell took its shape, no hole could escape,
And she hummed a slight tune without end.
This net woven strong was just like her song—
It would capture the memories of old,
For no matter how rife with struggle for life,
The knots in her net would still hold.
Yes there’d be some escape, since the size of the gape
Couldn’t possibly hold every fish.
But for each one she lost, she could bear the slight cost—
The big ones were all that she wished.
Let the little ones swim, the fancies the whims,
The choices that swarm through the day.
Just keep the big fins, the losses and wins,
Life is more than the catch of the day.