Something there is about old quilts
carrying with them the smell of the past
wooden chests, deep drawers, dark closets
and the slow slide of time
like the resigned setting of the sun
or the cautious moving of moon behind cloud
fabrics fading and threadbare, bat lumpy,
patient stitches come undone:
We sleep under soft albums
cozy with scrapbooks and hanky drawers
filled with mementos and souvenirs
photos smiling shyly with uncertain focus
slumbers as secure as in a womb.
Bio: Gary Jones is a free-lance writer who lives in Sister Bay and Platteville.