Quilt, by Gloria Evanick Ferguson
Lives evolve in patterns
Intermixing dark and light,
Calico and solid times,
Faded prints and bright.
Sometimes we choose the pattern,
But we very often find
A crazy quilt where we had planned
A geometric, safe design.
Holding front to back for me
And all that’s in between
Is love of family and friends
Like stitches, barely seen,
That thread the blocks together,
That heighten and define
All that makes this work unique,
All that makes it mine.
Mornings, as I make my bed,
Putting wrinkles all away
I greet the most familiar blocks -
I know you! Yesterday
You were the blouse my sister made,
And you my brother’s vest
And there is Grandma’s apron.
And here my daughter’s dress.
By night, I rest and feel its warmth,
Knowing there will be
More of darkness and of light,
Patterns yet to see
Until it’s time to rest again,
Safe within the folds
Of the quilt made by my mother’s hands
That keeps me from the cold.
Intermixing dark and light,
Calico and solid times,
Faded prints and bright.
Sometimes we choose the pattern,
But we very often find
A crazy quilt where we had planned
A geometric, safe design.
Holding front to back for me
And all that’s in between
Is love of family and friends
Like stitches, barely seen,
That thread the blocks together,
That heighten and define
All that makes this work unique,
All that makes it mine.
Mornings, as I make my bed,
Putting wrinkles all away
I greet the most familiar blocks -
I know you! Yesterday
You were the blouse my sister made,
And you my brother’s vest
And there is Grandma’s apron.
And here my daughter’s dress.
By night, I rest and feel its warmth,
Knowing there will be
More of darkness and of light,
Patterns yet to see
Until it’s time to rest again,
Safe within the folds
Of the quilt made by my mother’s hands
That keeps me from the cold.