Threads through cracks and windows, drawn across then woven.Wrapped me wet in a cocoon of fabric.Sing a song for the spinner. Dear silkworm, remind me why I'm here.When I'm tired and want to sleep for a year. You're a stick in a suit; a nice silhouette; a barefoot wanderer streaking away between rainforest redwood. Sew she grows. It's those whimsical evenings when the light is right and the streetlamp so perfectly crooked.I inherit those random waves and empathize with nostalgia. With you til you whither. Salty snow.I know you know. And sew she sews.