© 2016 Neal Lett
The Sirens sing in each man’s odyssey,
in every woman’s role as Penelope,
faithful to themselves by all accounts:
old myths woven and those unwoven
memories spun yarn remembers
in the yet unfinished shrouds
in which we cloak ourselves, cast
into the present tense a tick-at-a-time.
No grace reliving past temptations
or heroics, those flashes dimming
with mundane routines of earthly
jobs, of quiet talk with our gods.
drycrikjournal 
I am charmed and enamored of any work that makes use of knitting/weaving metaphors and wordplay. What a delightful reflection this rainy Sunday in Ottawa. Here’s to the tick of time and living in the present tense.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I started this one weeks ago, but had no place to go with it until my niece’s photo. Yes! Here’s to the present tense!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is actually Neal’s photo, taken with his vintage Leica… but I’m happy to take credit
LikeLike