This little fella was destined to become a Christmas decoration but after knitting several identical ones I feel a piece of artwork starting to emerge. A couple of poetic lines popped into to me head too.
Nonconformity
Isolated I stand,
against the growing monoculture of human kind,
The larch does not conform,
laid bare in winter she looks forlorn,
laid bare in winter she looks forlorn,
But she like me is not depressed,
She merely rests to await her time.
She merely rests to await her time.
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