Wintering

Wintering

Finally, the winter is willing to chill us.
The heavy quilt uncasketed from the cedar chest.

Its weight presses us all night
Like leaves in a summer camp scrapbook.

It is the season to be cradled by older arms
And dream of the giant redwoods upstate,

a history of heavy thread and stitches
Thimbled through the batting.

Everything made of older things.

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