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She weaves her straw-coloured strands
colours of all the earth and the lives of men see how they tangle beyond repair! See how they form harmonious patterns interwoven mats of straw shining golden in the sun as the tangled masses turn black in mildew and mold until they are thrown into the lake, forgotten. eaten by scavengers in the depths A blue-winged songbird sings upon the branch above her, watching her deft fingers and interwoven designs and when it is time he flies away to the distant meadows beyond time to return to her, new threads within his beak she takes and adds and when it is time he flies down to her and takes an old strand, or a mat prepared and done flies away to the field called history and there lays it down according to her design. |