Vol. II, No. 2, Fall 1988


The Quiltmaker

by Alma Edmonds



I saw in summer

A coverlet of meadow flung upon

A steep and rocky Ozark glade.

The earth was grays and greens,

A blend of growth, maturity, and death.

The theme was Chicory, Aegean thing,

A perfect rambling of purpled blue,

With blocks of Blackeyed Susan here and there,

And stenciled umbrels of Queen Anne's lace.

Embroidered clusters of Butterfly Weed

Enflamed the point at left, mid-distance,

Where rivulets converged and drained into the trees

Along a creek that whispered among stones.

A meadowlark flushed whistling from the flowers

And, flashing white, glided into the vault.

Now I will stitch a cover for my bed

Of blue and gold, puff-quilted white,

With French knots flaming on a fall of field.

A binding of green for the trees at creekside.

And the wing curve of summer's sailing lark

To quicken my pulse in winter.

[3]


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