The wind blows my strawberry-blond hair
And I think long and hard at where my ancestors came from
On a small ship that traveled a great length
When my mind is thinking
I think about all of the skills that I have mastered
The string going through one hands and the hook in the other
Waving in and out of each other

A pencil in mine hand gliding across the paper in front of me
Without any hesitation
I think again to realize this is the front that I put up on display for every one
It is what they see and learn about me
That surprises them
It’s a matter of asking the right questions
That will lead to what is unknown to them