Treasure

When the dawn breaks
You roll down to me,
A soft ball of wool
Gently tied to 
The unfinished pullover
Beginning to see its day;
Thanks to those
Nimble hands of 
The engaged Grandma,
I feel your presence.

You are the wind
Whispering in my ears
For which I hear,
The light in whose 
Benevolent bounty
I flawlessly see.

The warm, comforting
World
Like my Grandma’s pull
I can wear and sense
Fixed in time and place;
But the affection that 
Made it happen
The kissing wind,
The dancing light
To be felt everywhere
In transience,
A constant source in the air
Beyond compare.

The world
Made of both
The work and the cloth,
Gifts me another dawn 
To treasure.