There came a moment of inattention,

I think I was trying to make sense of my own design,

when it began to unravel.

I dropped stitches,

felt the yarn untwist then knot between my fingers.


There came that moment of inattention,

when my own fashioning began to seem unwieldy,

and I purled instead of plained

and our glorious pattern looked

awkward, unworked, unbeautiful.


There came this moment

when I saw what I had done

and cried.


Then there came another moment

when together we scooped up the sorry mess

and wove

a variation on what we had before

but more brilliant.