Weavers
As the day-threads we've been weaving,
From gloriously dyed skeins of weeks and months,
Coalesce into our slowly disclosing, rapturous tapestry
Of silken silver and gold, daffodil yellow, cobalt blue, soul green,
We see the materializing image, with increasingly pleasing clarity,
And revel in the pastoral scene
Capturing exact lifelikenesses of me and you, Linda,
Floating, naked, down a stream bathing us in faceted sun-blaze,
Serpentining toward the unfinished edge of the canvas,
Where the two of us wait, elatedly, in shared cherishment,
To stitch our remaining years into an immortal love-myth
The future will install in its hall of legendary weavers.
04/01/11
|