An enticing brightly coloured heap
awaits me in the sewing room.
Humming softly I survey, reflect, and ponder
what to make – what a fool, as if I had a choice.
The fabrics shout “pick me,” “and me.”
I laugh aloud with glee,
dive straight in, scissors flashing.
Whoops too much, mistakes to mend.
There’s method in my madness though,
to sew and slash in slapdash style
to join and re-join heedless
of resulting chaos. The final
psychedelic quilt delights a child
and charms the sternest critic.
Written for Whirligig #8