“fabric of the past” – New haiku and image – Plus an old poem bonus – Grandma’s hands

fabric of the past
pieced and quilted, worn into
a ragged glory
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Today, in order to make my room a little darker for some daytime photo processing, I hung one of grandma’s quilts up against the curtain. As you can see it is a well worn one. I have many lovely memories of my grandma and quilts. Also, every time I think on how they are made, quilts seem like perfect metaphors for life. I do not often present both an image and haiku together, as I can tend to be lazy and let the haiku feed off the image too much and not stand on its own. I think this one works by itself, too, though. Finally the poem after the image is a rather an old one on the same subject.
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quilt-1 small

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Grandma’s Hands

Grandma’s hands were smooth and white
When I was a child.
And labored long at tasks untold
From dawn till well past setting sun,
And sometimes cuffed me into line
Along with words though stern, still kind
To make a young boy wise.

And when I’d grown
They’d labor still
Well into the night
With untold thimbled needle thrusts
Punctuating time.
But then they were but skin on bones
That would wrinkle up in mine
As hand in hand we’d talk and sit;

I’d listen with delight,
To tales of life and love and woe
And watch those transparent hands in mine
And see the blood go coursing by.

Grandma’s hands were smooth and white
When I was a child.

Poem Reprint: Grandma’s Hands

Grandma’s Hands

Grandma’s hands were smooth and white
When I was a child.
And labored long at tasks untold
From dawn till well past setting sun,
And sometimes cuffed me into line
Along with words though stern, still kind
To make a young boy wise.

And when I’d grown
They’d labor still
Well into the night
With untold thimbled needle thrusts
Punctuating time.
But then they were but skin on bones
That would wrinkle up in mine
As hand in hand we’d talk and sit;

I’d listen with delight,
To tales of life and love and woe
And watch those transparent hands in mine
And see the blood go coursing by.

Grandma’s hands were smooth and white
When I was a child.