I could weave as a very young child.
Most would be hopping, with the Hurry.
Hurry here and there because Winter loomed above all our heads.
The Worry made every one move to assure that
hungry would not arrive while Sun slept threw most of Winter.
I wove the harvest together for Winter's due.
But I was not part of the Hurry, It had no purpose here.
I have found an oasis from the Hurry.
Every harvest was better than the last with each of the bundles I wove.
With so many bundles it was hard to see were they began and were they ended.
It was any ones guessed how many winters were stored away in the winter tree vaults.
Now it seemed there was more time than hurry.