A Weaver's Thoughts

Sitting at my simple loom
on a cold Winter morning.

I had forgotten that warm is
a hand-made wool sweater and shawl.

The wood stove cheerily burns,
it's yellow orange flames dancing.

Simple weaving
has a quiet sound
and a slower pace.

I can hear the reed move through the wool.
It makes a rustling sound
like footsteps on a forest floor.

I pull the yarn through the shed
It makes a scratching sound
like ice pellets forming
at the window.

The scarf comes to life
with sound and movement
row upon row.