This is part one of my next series of poems honoring the cloth mills of North Carolina; Threads. Once a thriving industry here, the mills have been abandoned for cheaper production in southeast Asia, leaving a legacy of decline but a proud heritage. I wanted in this part to capture something of the imagination in the craft, an imagination that takes raw materials like cotton and silk and transforms them through spinning wheels and looms into the very clothes on our backs. Of course we all wear our personalities on our sleeves and there is an element of display here, hence the allusions to fields of lilies and birds, butterflies. But I wanted to keep this impressionistic, abstract, with a light, airy feel. estory

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