A Gift of Fleece

This pasture serves its denizens quite well
A place where they can thrive while roaming free
Until, like Pavlov’s dogs, they heed the bell
That clangs in urgent clamoring “come see.”

The trusty Sheltie rounds them up with ease,
Conditioned to their four-legged shepherd’s press,
And gathering, prepare to lose their fleece
So prized, to make a deftly knitted dress.

Once shorn, it’s weighed, dyed, spun like glass,
To finest weight with silken fibers wove,
Or may become a fish-man’s Aran vest,
With course and oily warmth, ‘gainst spray and cold.

Voracious knitter, I, caress the skeins,
Each lovely, though the same from whence they came.

Light and Shade Challenge


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