Weaving Poem by Francie Lynch

Lazy afternoon rays shaft
Through Spring's full trees;
The wind cuts laterally
Leaving the sea.
Through deck lattice
The grass weaves
A tartan plaid.

Electric lines,
Chimney tops,
Blossoming crops.

I hold out my hands,
Stringing fingers
Through thinning hair.

The artisan
Wove and weaves.
This is the basket,
The rug,
My coat.
Entwine our fingers;
Weave a basket.
Collect your thoughts.