DARNING NEEDLE'S ANNUNCIATION Poem by Marc Kregting

Today Darning Needle receives a visit from Woolteaser. Not to be sniffed at. Woolteaser does not enter, because there's little mind to be made up on a doorstep. He scratches himself against the doorjamb and Darning Needle sends him his best wishes.
When Darning Needle was a promise, he knew a man that could make a perfect parting. His hair e.g. turned to air.
By now the sky is overcast so no all-in-prayer gets through. Seven blankets lie ready but dripping and hence need to be hung. But Woolteaser is still standing, there's a draught, and Darning Needle folds his greetings flatly in a mini-bra. He's thirsty and good manners. Never sip with visitors who waver to come calling. Probably Darning Needle ought to sit down simply on the rush mat; that would put a stop to the high pressure on his clockwork. Woolteaser does lean reproachfully against the stile almost as sweet an animal as the paddle. He raises weighty messages.
Darning Needle's mother had to give birth one day, a hefty story.
Woolteaser has leaking feet. Not so Darning Needle. He wouldn't be himself with thread, repairs the lock on his head.