mending nettie's quilt

"but no one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear results."  matthew 9:16

i was first to go, at the knees,
from his form of prayer:  fixing.
to say nothing of oil stains, rust or haying season

me?  shy as the crinoline i am
ruffling with her heart in spring breezes
waiting, somewhere between lilac trees and patent shoes

how i loved wednesday wash days though
they wore me thin against the river
my whites crisping on the line

ordinary life tied at her waist
though often i went along delivering cakes
(and babies) chores and sometimes, lullabies

mealtime meant my service, the daubing up
of creams and sauce at Sunday brunch
folded, then crumpled with their satisfaction

i lasted longest, likely from summer storage in cedar
my collar torn and some buttons lost in a snow drift
easily enough replaced

and over all this i dare to place thread count i've never worn
story-less but for the purchase (conventional wisdom even Jesus knew)
hopeful, i add my patches anyway; to strengthen, not to tear.
ls 3.27.13