Yarn
April is the crewelists' month, stitching
flowers out of the dark yarn, threading
fuschia and pastel, shaping
green dreams with bright floss.
Line stitch gave us form, arcing
blue in delirious fills, blooming
a tendriled fruit with red circles.
Patterns surprised us, coming out of the tapestries
with a shower of light; we couched in the colonnade,
and went on to satin, into the bargello,
and drank chai tea and stitched for an hour.