I carry a piece of thread different from yours…

I carry a piece of thread different from yours…
Each morning, I lay it at the feet of the seamstress…
She collects from all who have given…
And begins creating a brand-new day.

Later, the sun sets into darkness…
The sunrise a blank piece of glory…
She waits for Her needle and thread…
And then She begins sewing.

What new world will She create today?
How many threads have been given?
She carefully stitches these threads together…
Making your heartbeat the same as mine.

And then I see the new pattern…

Now, I must become a listener…
Short whistle, long whistle I understand them all…
I hear the wind bidding me to follow…
And with a quick wag of my tail, I am off!

Maybe today you are hurting…
She has the skill to erase that ancient patina of dirt…
By creating a brand-new pattern…
Just lay your thread at Her feet.

I love you,

Annie