The Seamstress

Each night I pull threads of birds

shake them loose; unpick the skies

dappled husks of thrush and wren

mulberry silk from blackbird eyes

unlacing swathed loops of swifts

tangled ropes of swallows flight

I wind wet weather onto spools

collect the crystal beads of rain

unknot sleet, smooth soft snow

roll rainbows onto coloured skeins

Lastly, smoggy chimney smoke

chalky trails from tails of planes

I clean and press, sew, repair

bring out sky’s box; put away

strips of darkness; unpinned stars,

fraying shadows, darned in grey.

Then I card, spin; weave again,

and sit up till dawn, stitching day.

©Sue Hardy- Dawson from If I Were Other Than Myself (Troika Books)