Cut From the Same Cloth
Creative whimsy dances ‘cross snug warmth,
Strength and durability at play in the touch,
Crisp swish rich with valleys and peaks,
Releasing a bouquet of old soul wisdom
From a thick creamy corduroy.
A patch is cut from the cloth
Followed years later by another,
Each placed by Loving Hands
Close but not so close,
Neither adjacent nor distant.
Then one autumn, life folds so that
Their valleys and peaks brush together
And the pair
Hold their breaths
In awe and recognition
That they were cut from the same cloth.
For a remarkably blessed season,
They fold into each other –
Clinging together, reluctant to release,
Soft and stiff, familiar and strange,
Delicious friction and sacred synergy,
A dizzying dance between comfort and abrasion.
Awakening discoveries and
Spreading out a new and unique legend
Thrilling frolics rife with mundane intimacy –
Stories and songs and creations
Wisecracks and wise thoughts
Plans and hopes and tears.
But oh, the fears,
The fears ruffle their minds
When valleys scratch rough and raw,
When worn spots peek around the peaks,
Airing out blows freshness,
Yet ache and fatigue still twist.
Yet ache and fatigue still twist.
They remain reluctant to release, clinging,
Ever transformed by their folding together,
In fervent awe of their mutual origins
And the precious textures they have shared.
They hold their breaths in grief and recognition
That their stories may unfold in different directions.
Cut.
From the same cloth.
