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Beltane Moon: 100 Days (68)

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Tying Up Loose Ends

Day 68:

I experimented with granny square eyes this evening. I think I have a pattern I can work with now (upper left corner of the X in the photo with the granny square in the middle). It ends up being a little larger than the other granny squares, but I think if I block the squares well, it should be okay.

And it’s the last day of Poem-a-Day writing for National Poetry Month. Whew. I’m a little pooped out from doing two projects at once. Next year, I think I might have to weave Poetry month into the 100 Days (make it all poetry?) or forego April Poetry completely.

Beltane Moon
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

Wood thrush calling over the hill by the pond
and moon caught in sycamore branches.
Chill breeze awakens, enlivens the skin,
a green fragrance rising from the fields.
What is calling you back to life?
Who is speaking your name in the shadows?

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Longing: 100 Days (66)

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Tying Up Loose Ends

Day 66:

Today was a problem-solving day. I think the shrug is going to be okay! I got one sleeve crocheted together, and I’ll manage the other tomorrow during crochet club after school. I also made a smaller eye that I think will work for the granny square sweater. I just need to get that black layer around the outside.

Longing
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

The Bird of Longing will sing in your soul.
Her brilliant wings will unfurl within you.
Her bright eye will lead you to your deepest desire.

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Oriole: 100 Days (65)

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Tying Up Loose Ends

Day 65:

Before I even thought to look for him, Oriole is back!

Behind the bird chorus, behind the sound of wind in the trees, the hum of bees from the rogue hive in the barn. Scent of pine and mayapple in the woods, and lily of the valley by the house. Hidden blooms of pawpaw, and the tender blessing of a friend: “Stay safe, stay well—”

I put the shoulders together on the bamboo shrug, then began adding the orange sleeve, but I got the seam on the wrong side. I unraveled. Tomorrow: take two.

Oriole
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

how the oriole
returns to me whistling loud
and sets the treetop aflame

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Beauty and Rage: 100 Days (59)

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Tying Up Loose Ends

Day 59:

Busy day with a few bright moments to breathe in the flowers and drink a cup of tea with beloveds. Three granny squares and a tiny poem.

Beauty and Rage
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

Somewhere on the page of my day,
somewhere on the brightly light stage
is the balancing point
between beauty
and rage

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Toad: 100 Days (53)

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Tying Up Loose Ends

Day 53: 

Just a few rows tonight. I told myself I might only work for 5 or 10 minutes some days, and so far I have always put at least half an hour into a project every day. Even three rows is close to 30 minutes of time.

Toad
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

the woman who is becoming
has learned to song of the toad
how the restless lights
of lawns and gardens
draw fluttering moths
how ancient the pull of desire
in the waiting darkness
how cool the morning grass
how the jewel of light rests
between the eyes

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Hunger: 100 Days (39)

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Tying Up Loose Ends

Day 39:

I took up my bamboo shrug project today. I haven’t worked on it for a long time, so I had to figure out the pattern of stitches again, and I made two rows before I realized that I had started at the wrong point in the pattern, so I unraveled back to my starting point and got it right the second time. I love the silky softness of this yarn.

Happy National Poetry Month!

Hunger
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

What are you really hungry for?
–Rob Brezsny

Today I have the hunger of the crow,
that is to say, ravenous for shiny,
starving for the artful view
of chimney tops and aerials,
roof ledges, and nests high
and twiggy in the sycamore,
near to where the eagles feed
their own insatiable young.

Today hunger resides not in my belly,
round as it is with the recent birth
of my cronehood, but is lodged
somewhere inside my indigo eye,
deeper dark even than my wings.
If I could, I would consume the world
with my shining eyes, filling my soul
with the map of my unquenchable yearning.

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