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.