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Silhouetted against a silver river,

haunted unawares by the warp and weft

of hand loom and tale spinning weavers,

the scaffolder scurries ant like

on the roof in the wake of the dawn.
A brother woollen hat

appears above the parapet

on grey sullen slates

fanned by a winnowing breeze

bestowing fallen leaves.
Mid river silver fuses with blue.

A third woven hat emerges

defying vertigo with silent film panache,

impervious to the predator oblivion

who stalks the ground below.

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