There's a crater in the center
of my favorite quilt. And when
I venture its landscape,
I question whether I am a danger,
environmentally.

I pull the threads from the corner
and I feel like I am unraveling the
sky;
forgetting its unknown creator,
ignoring any possible, artful
design.

and then I wonder whose front
lawn held this blanket once,
with sod stains, and faded scents
of spring.

I mount upon adventures here
upon this patterned quilt.
A patchwork of crops from
different sowers, this is the marketplace
display for all their work