On tiptoes
I reach for a scarf
And mittens come tumbling down
Long forgotten
Knitted for my small hands --
I smile,

Remembering the first time
      I pulled them on
As if the yarn was moonlight
Sending its secret code to me,
            The answer,
And my fingers hummed
      their gratitude --
They are perfectly two and blue

Soft as bird's down
Carrying humble memories
      in a life's broad expanse
Yet they are nonetheless

Magnificent --