(With apologies to John Keats, Edgar Allen Poe, C.C Moore and Frank Sinatra,
and special thanks to my hand and feet models, Jill and Alice)
A glorious summer, not too cool, not too hot.
Wispy days spent stitching,
pop - pop - pop.
With some speedy hand-quilting,
I got to the edge.
Soon to be finished,
this project, I pledged.
The quilt was squared off,
the binding - pinned,
A chair selected, a beverage un-tinned;
how lovely to sew in the evening summer wind.
And then -
the breeze faded, the trees stopped blowing,
mosquitoes a-flight;
should I give up my sewing?
The temperature rose,
sweat fell down my cheeks,
I stitched nevermore
(well, at least three weeks).
It sat on my chair,
forlorn and alone,
sulking and drooping,
like a teenager - sans phone.
Days became weeks.
The mercury soared.
So sad to see my hexie quilt -
ignored.
I rallied.
No quilt of mine, 
so close to completion,
would sit waiting and watching,
like Keat's urn (Grecian),
for the weather to cool,
the winds to blow,
the roof to be covered in
new-fallen snow.
I carried on, with thread and thimble,
stayed up way too late and watched
Jimmy Kimmel.
The heat is still high,
not a breeze to be found,
but my quilt is finished,
it's binding -
now bound.
Lo, my broken heart - to see summer ceasing,
Time on the beach rapidly decreasing.
But let's not forget that soon we'll be freezin'
and stitching is good for you, no matter the season.
Take care,
Pam
