The Weaver - Oct. 8, 2021

one eye on the pattern

a pause of the foot pump

the rapid switch of spools

she spikes a bright strand of yarn

over a shiny metal barb

on the hulking machine

like a spider on speed

her fingers blur with the threads

the well-oiled loom hums

higher pitched than the others

weaves a colorful web

reds whites and lots of blue

a flag forms and waves

on a sky’s azure background

just like last year

and so many years before

the annual fair is merely confirmation

of a peerless skill

this coverlet

like all her other winners

will find a use

it sits at home wheelchaired

and eating TV popcorn

covering and uncovering

a clawed greasy hand