by Rowan Blair Colver
Vortices of charm within graspings of spinning yarn,
Humble stain in wooden pail such dignity unveiled,
Ample shade then sudden light a movement made,
Heavenly cloud with a patchwork of silver around,
Silent in the melding flock as no-one cares to take stock,
When transition is equality with formation's tranquillity,
Being some while never more yet posturing a metaphor,
Like patterns on the hill that push to overspill and will,
Each passing of the spirit which occupies the living,
Turns ever gently true and flowing in melodic tune,
Brings flowering with the standing still and happening,
While forever to bring spinning yarn in vortices of charm.