She hems the old dress
For some brand new day
Hiding in time’s closet
Her fingers sewing in
The fleeting moments
As the afternoon sows its shadows
For evening’s harvest
When the seams in the sky
Will disappear
And the clouds will patch
The cloth of night
The moon threading
Its light through the window
Stringing her along
Through the eye of midnight
As darkness tries on
Its befitting black satin
And she unravels from work
Sitting back looking
Through a button hole in space
Wonders who stitched the stars
On Mother Nature’s dress