[Soaring Feather]

[tomkow6]

Mernin', Ms Feather!

[Lady Jag]

Morning

by Emily Dickinson

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh! some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Ms. Feather, I didn't see a ping this morning - did I have too many pings to find it?



Cloth of White

The white wool sits there in my hand,
the wheel goes round and round and round,
As the thread is formed, a thin white strand,
And the wheel goes round and round.

Once it sat on back of ewe,
The wheel goes round and round and round,
And knew the sun, the feel of dew,
And the wheel goes round and round.

Once it knew the shearer's hand,
The wheel goes round and round and round
all gathered up in a dirty white band,
And the wheel goes round and round.

Once it met the water clear,
and the wheel goes round and round and round,
That made its grime all disappear,
And the wheel goes round and round.

Once it met the woolen card,
And the wheel goes round and round and round
To make it smooth and not so hard,
And the wheel goes round and round.

And soon it will be cloth of wool,
and the wheel goes round and round and round,
To keep me from the winter's cool,
and the wheel goes round and round.

The hand of God works like that too,
and the wheel goes round and round and round
Takes me through each step I rue,
and the wheel goes round and round,

Finds me wild then cuts the dross,
and the wheel goes round and round and round,
The tool he uses is his own cross,
And the wheel goes round and round.

Baptismal waters to wash my soul
and the wheel goes round and round and round,
And his own love to make me whole,
And the wheel goes round and round,

His cleansing comb sweeps through my life,
and the wheel goes round and round and round,
to straighten out the noise and strife,
and the wheel goes round and round and round.

Spun into thread for God's tapestry
and the wheel goes round and round and round,
I'm part of that bright cloth, you see,
and the wheel goes round and round.

Each life is precious in his hand,
And the wheel goes round and round and round,
Each life has place, a shining strand
And the wheel goes round and round.

The cloth he makes a shining white,
And the wheel goes round and round and round,
To clothe his Bride in linen bright,
And the wheel goes round and round.

And when the last strand's woven in
And the wheel goes round and round and round,
The wedding feast will then begin.
And the wheel goes round and round.