I had a bit of trouble getting into gear for this poem, as I've mostly switched to attempting to use, if not Simple English, then closer-to-Simple-English purely for accessibility reasons for most of my blog posts, etc. (Note: I do not always succeed). So while I sat staring at the screen and wrote a couple stanzas of a poem that was just not me, I changed everything up and decided to pick a topic that is near and dear to my heart: yarn. I spin, and knit, and all manner of fiber things. It's a Thing.
Here, for your enjoyment, is the poem that flowed from the simple choice changing topics made.
To Dye Today
When I delicately dip the handspun yarn
(made with a loving twist and flick of my fingers
by ancient art honed by women of yore)
into the swirling bath of dye
(a sunburst of turmeric, pokeberry vermilion,
Nature’s dyes of every hue, none trumped by King Indigo)
the wool blossoms in the water and
(small fiber scales teased open with vinegar,
the sheepish dragon’s guard relaxed for dyeing)
the yarn transforms: a butterfly in chrysalis.
(I the Alchemist with my quest for God and gold,or perhaps a hedge witch with my call for healing)