A small striped sleeve in her lap, <br />navy and white, <br />needles carefully whipping in yarn <br />from two sides. <br />She reminds me of the wide-angled women <br />filled with calm <br />I pretended I was related to <br />in crowds. <br /> <br />In the next seat <br />a yellow burst of wool <br />grows into a hat with a tassel. <br />She looks young to crochet. <br />I'm glad history isn't totally lost. <br />Her silver hook dips gracefuly. <br /> <br />And when's the last time you saw <br />anyone sew a pocket onto a gray linen shirt <br />in public? <br />Her stitches must be invisible. <br />A bevelled thimble glitters in the light. <br /> <br />On Mother's Day <br />three women who aren't together <br />conduct delicate operations <br />in adjoining seats <br />between La Guardia and Dallas. <br />Miraculously, they never speak. <br />Three different kinds of needles, <br />three snippy scissors, <br />everybody else on the plane <br />snoozing with The Times. <br />When the flight attendant <br />offers free wine to celebrate, <br />you'd think they'd sit back, <br />chat a minute, <br />tell who they're making it for, <br />trade patterns, <br />yes? <br /> <br />But a grave separateness <br />has invaded the world. <br />They sip with eyes shut <br />and never say <br />Amazing <br />or <br />Look at us <br />or <br />May your thread <br />never break. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by R. Joyce Heon<br /><br />Naomi Shihab Nye<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sewing-knitting-crocheting/
