in place of a potholder
hook weaves cotton loops
in out, in out, back, forth
patterns alternate
in color, how like a dream
checkered, he makes it
in out, in out, back, forth
until the image appears
the one he held in mind
maybe a pattern, two colored
or four, with lines that strike
at uneven angles, resembling
a tartan, or herringbone
none solid, ever
always patterns picked
in cotton colors, looped
by aging fingers
same ones that dragged out
the steel frames, taught us,
in his younger years,
to enjoy something as simple
as a loom