knitting frenzy

my mother

would

sit and knit

for hours

in the big chair in the corner

listening to

the radio with

balls of yarn

at her feet.

blue, red, yellow, green.

the needles clinked

against each other

as she went

at it.

you had to leave her

alone,

and not ask her

where your baseball glove

was,

or your shoes, or

your blue jacket.

she was in a zone.

Christmas was coming

and she

need

to make six more

Afghans.