Shadorma 251, 252, 253

From Count Syllables on Your Fingers, published in 2020.

Shadorma 251

Be patient
when the thread tangles
The first stitch
says nothing
of the last one. The needle
must find its rhythm.


Shadorma 252

Red sky fades
as I watch it. Cold
fall morning
two days left
in November. Pale low light
seeps across the yard.


Shadorma 253

I stand here
in a weak wash of
pale sun streaks
fighting clouds
above the bare dark trees. Frost
night. Shiver morning.


4 thoughts on “Shadorma 251, 252, 253

  1. I love the way you convey that really specific quality of light in the two last poems. The first poem is something I need to keep with my needles and thread for the next time I have to sew something and am erupting with frustration.

  2. Thank you. I think the sky this time of year is at its best – the colors and the clarity of the light. And as for those needles, yes, I believe sewing requires a partnership with the needle. And the two of you have to do some warm up stretches, maybe!?!

  3. Thank you. I was born in November and this time of year is my favorite – I believe I arrived in this month on purpose (I was supposed to be born in early December, according to the family story, but I guess I decided differently). Anyway, I think the outdoors is just beautiful this time of year. And I believe that in any kind of sewing, or any endeavor where tools are used, the maker and the tool have to come to terms, and the tool’s pace and time must be respected. At least that is how it has always worked for me!

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