The Weaver

An old man sits crouched
behind an ancient loom,
his beady eyes gleam -
stardust caught
in thick black frames.

A mystical pattern
of warps and wefts
weave through his eyes,
and into his fingers,
dancing to pick up threads,
infusing them
with a heady mix
of love and passion.

A myriad connections,
trimmings
and intersections.

Trails of stardust
weave their magic
to keep us warm and safe.