Sunday, May 12, 2013

Jacob's Children


 
She said it was a shawl of many hues,
Like Joseph’s coat, a gift to be bestowed,
Until between her busy hands emerged
A thing as soft and pure as love can make
When spirits do not do the casting on

And as she teased the needles through the yarn
The green and blue and silver flowed and fused
Down unexpected alleys colors swept
Because we live in disregard of line
The pattern is the pattern we compose

When Joseph wandered off in search of flocks
His brothers watched, and fumed, and then conspired
“Here comes the dreamer” each to other said
So prophecy is done and God revealed
When angels knit, and dreamers go afield

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