This Dappled Morning

The far field

dazzles with the hawkweed,

yellow, festive,

and the sheep

has eaten all the

tasty blossoms around her.

Shadows of swallows

slide over the long grass

golden beneath the rowan

whose berries swell in

crimson clusters on the bough.

I feel as solitary

and prickly as a thistle,

this dappled morning,

as I lean on the cold iron of the anvil.

The bronze knitting needles I have made

are golden bright from the rouge,

and lie on the work bench

waiting to be sent

all over the planet.

I can see them go

like the many shadows of birds

flying out, away,

to land in a pair of hands.

Hands that will draw to them yarn,

like the wool of my sheep,

distilled from a field of yellow flowers.

Hands that will draw to them patterns,

like the rowan now growing,

its grey branches knitted to the blue of the sky,

its berries, red within green,

celebrating magic, utility, motion, and beauty.

Molly Swan-Sheeran copyright 2007

Read more of my poems? http://celticswan.com/poems.htm

Summertime

Day after day of sunshine! I'm about to get Northwest Sunshine Panic Syndrome!
We have been picking salal berries and baking tarts. Salal berries were a big thing for the native people here. They made fruit leather out of it, and then rolled the sheets of it up into a huge wheel to last the winter. It has no thorns! They taste like blueberries.
Eating great quantities of it makes you poop green. (Too much information?)

The sock trade is rolling along & picking up speed. I have over a dozen avid knitters casting on stitches and beginning to knit me a pair of lovely socks. I cannot tell you how exciting this is! I think I better buy more bronze! Since I love smithing out the knitting needles, and whimper & sob when I try to knit socks, this is a match made in heaven.
Meanwhile we have had house guests, and more coming at regular intervals this whole month. But we really like guests, so that is fine. John & I love to cook for people, and to take them hiking around here.