Sewing
When the air cools, and the windows are open,
I wander back into the studio.
I fondle the fabrics, relishing the textures,
the muted colors, no brights here.
The bark cloth called to me.
I spied buttons, a perfect set,
rescued from a dress of my Mother.
They were joined into a new tote for the fall.
Four fabrics blended into a flirty, scalloped bag.
At times, the sewing, it feels like coming home.
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