Sunrise pours into the studio as usual
But this morning I think it looks further away
And I realize this is the first time in four years
That I’ve seen autumn colors on the shores of the lake.
When I heard the first gaggle of geese going south, giggling,
I thought it was strange to not be in school
But I am grateful to still be learning.
Karen taught me to sew curves
And every day I am faster at converting
Yards to inches and back again.
Ten years ago today, I was still waiting
For my letter from Hogwarts to arrive.
But now, every time I see the long arm quilting—
I think I’ve made it to the castle after all.
I think the scariest transition is fall.
A lot of people ask me what I’m doing with my degree
At the studio, people just call me “lucky.”
Customers stop by on their way through town,
Here for a wedding, a conference, a trip north to see the foliage
I ask Karen if I can stick around
A few more months but I don’t say
this is the only place I’ve been since I graduated
where I don’t feel afraid.
My favorite poet reminded me that with luck,
I have maybe 68 autumns ahead of me
Increasingly I feel that won’t be enough
To sew with all of the fabric I think is pretty.
How lucky I am to be starting so early.
In the plains, eagles build their nests atop telephone poles. And if there’s one tree in a prairie, all of the cattle find its shade. From the highway, I can see nothing for miles, but the crop fields look so fullI imagine walking across the tops of fuzzy tipped wheat stocks and feeling something soft on my aching feet