The Finest Threads

I.

Sunlight sneaks
its bobbins through
the deciduous trees.
Stitches needlelace across
the open neck of the lake.
Willing waters,
ready to please,
ready to partake.

II.

Each gossamer design
is not a ballgown.
Some are silken nets
cast midair,
invisible bayonets;
the spinner’s
attempt to survive
summer on a street post.

III.

A gardener’s shiny
spade lays a pattern
in aerated soil;
a nursery fantasy forms.
Patient pathways create
delicately spread threads
to make his fine brocade.

© 2022 | K.Hartless


Contest write. Topic: Lace. The task: Write three vignettes of 25 words each, exactly. Ta-dah! What do you think?

I spent the day teaching my students, many of which are struggling with issues outside of reading. I spent the day talking to worried colleagues. Chatting with parents that fear for their children, in more than the usual ways. So, I thought I would share this song that came to mind when I sat down and thought: what will I post today? Should I even post? Now, I’m going to spend my evening writing. Not fiction, but letters. Let’s hope I’m wrong about the song at least.

14 Comments

  1. This was such an intimate portrait of early dawn, K! ❤ From the ripples on the lake, the spider's web jewelled with morning dew, the slow trenches gouged into the soil – wonderful vivid imprints here 😀

    Liked by 1 person

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