Follow a thread through the weave of a coat.
Over and under like waves and a boat.
Red waves are lapping the top of each cuff
Blue waves zig-zagging, the sea's getting rough
Along the hem edge where it drags in the dust.
White and gold sash holds it up off the crust
Of the earth, which lends its light browns, grays and greens
To the collar above which the coat wearer preens
For a father who paid in good silver and stock
To dress prudent son like a lovely peacock.
Each stitch as articulate as nature allows,
Each color as bright as his eyes 'neath his brows,
The patterns and stripes follow predestined memes:
Bear pattern to hold tight, Bird pattern for dreams
Star pattern for solace, Tree pattern for strength,
Heart pattern for health and a life of great length.
Black for fathomless promise as far
As the stretching, unseen, black beyond every star,
Crimson like fire, flames reaching to grasp
Like hope, something there, just outside their clasp.
Gray rain is falling down back and both sides,
Brown wheat is growing from roots the seam hides.
Depictions of sheep, and cows chewing their cud,
Not intended to soak up a scapegoat's warm blood.
Maybe vanity, love-blindness, foolish mistake.
The catalyst for a lifetime, the clothes weavers make.