The sun is preparing for tomorrow
So am I to make a birthday dress.

I sit in the doorway these days.
And stitch.
And the sky eyes me.

A blue thread.
And a tangled knot at the bottom of water.
The river fills in the entire surface of the fabric.
The mountains rise from behind the wrinkles.
The birds soar.
And the tree sings, on its feet.


And among all the branches, clouds, rivers, deserts, mountains,
I stitch.