Original Poetry: “Tapestried”

My back braces against westerly wind chill.
The earth, warm / moist, sinks slightly with weight.
I could plow around trees to a point on the horizon.
I feel powerfully solitary, pioneering—
Strong thin arms grip my shoulders, hold my head.
They take the bulk of gust and root in firmament.
         I want to go. “Then go.”
         I must go. “Yes.”
I lift from arms fresh / intoxicated, turn back to clarity.
         You’re going? “No, you are.”
         I want to go. “Then go.”
         I must go. “I’ll be here,”
–miles and years from where she started.

         wife / mother / teacher
stands at the focal point of the yard
         among yellow grass / flowers and white feathers
embraces / absorbs the life warmth of the tapestried landscape
         lot & garden, pasture & field
         pieced together by endless fence.

The once nimble fingers delicately work the fabric
         piecing decades of memories
        stitching the generations together
                 with expanding spiraling lines.
         mother / grandmother / teacher
braces the soft head / plush arms
places the child in the quilt center.

         With her back windward,
she lifts her steady arms and cupped hands.
Fingers spread slightly letting wings unfold / dry.
Delicate legs make way to widening fingertips.
         It wants to go. “Then go.”
         It must go. “I’ll be here.”
Butterfly glides leaf-like upward from yard center.
Spiraling arcs take it farther yet
         lot & garden, pasture & field
                 inseparably below
         horizon ahead.
[Check out other original poems here.]


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