She passed, the lady
who crocheted scarves
for favorite toys

Stuffed pandas sported
lilacs and greens
snug against cold
muffled happy in sound
wool splendor

Her nieces and nephews
all loved her
lined up like urchins
in top hat and dragging tails

Life cleaves carved
runners in the snow
they fade behind
or loom before
who is certain
in the blur
crinkle of snowfall
a solitary bell

She nods, beckons
Godspeed, good night
clutching her bag of yarns

Chagall 2015

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