The last two poems have been on deeper topics than this one, but I wanted to shift the mood.
I don't do nearly as much needlework and sewing I as used to, but I still enjoy it occasionally and feel it is a great stress reliever. I used to like counted-cross stitch, but now that I'm older my eyes prefer the printed canvas of needlepoint instead of a blank cloth with squares to count.
When I do needlework, I feel connected to women of past generations who made useful and beautiful things by sewing, making lace, crocheting, knitting, and needlework. Today, with store-bought goods so available, sewing has become a hobby in our society instead of a necessity. But it is not a lost art. I am so glad when I see a quilt display (at the library each year) or see someone knitting on the bleachers at a ballgame. I am drawn to converse with anyone using a needle and thread, and I always find a kindred spirit who feels the same satisfaction as I do from having created something beautiful.
Needlepoint Pleasure by Janet Sobczyk, 2011ⓒ
Some people relieve stress
with drink or jogging or TV,
but what I like the best
is pleasant and calming to me.
Opening a new kit
reveals a rainbow of colors
to sort and count and sift
each shade apart from the others.
Once the sorting is done
and the directions are read through
then I begin the fun,
the part I truly love to do.
Thread the needle, then start
to fill the colors in each space;
it somehow calms my heart
to see the new picture take shape.
Time then seems to stand still
as I push the needle up and down,
each part slowly is filled
while I get lost in my thoughts now.
When I look at the clock
and see the time I sigh and groan;
I think with a mild shock,
“time didn’t stand still, it has flown!”
The kit gets put away,
the needle, canvas, and the thread
to wait another day,
but for now I must go to bed.