From the Needle’s Eye

I see the thread tip
pinched by nimble finger
and thumb, heading straight
for me,
tickling as it slips
through in a blink.

Now I’m sewing.

Each time I head down,
I watch the certain,
silver point
travel the red landscape
of fabric,
poking and choooshing,
leading me
and the pink thread
through short, soft tunnels,
one after the other,
as we stitch
the hills
valleys
prairies
of a heart.

I am closeup,
lucky witness
to tiny, careful steps. The needle,
returning home,
slips a loop
of thread. Its journey
ending in a knot
of love.