Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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You are the weaver that works the shuttle
shooting life’s fibers through the shed
knitting, until web ends are one
loom of dreams without a top or bottom
sides that reach beyond your girth
of circled arms clasped, what cloth
of days, interlaced with blue skies
green jungles, dew from white clouds
billowing as waves that crash
upon the sand: shroud, readied for your cue.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 5/26/2013