Poetry Day

One cousin messaged on our chat this morning; Today I'd like to invite everyone to write a little poem on any topic. Must be two lines or more....

Here's what I wrote first:

Colby and I are home today;
He got bit by the coyote-trapping-fray.
I'm teaching him knots and stitches too
As he stretches the hide and heals the few
Little holes in the luscious fluff.
I could bury my head in the fluffy stuff.
But coyote fur? I back away...
A mother's job is hard some days...

And then later this:

Keep 'em coming. Write, she said.
And so she stopped and scratched her head.
Should she write about how much she'd consumed?
Of coffee; hot, flavoured and bloomed?
Or should she write of her laundry room?
Where pile upon pile of laundry loom?
Sheets from company, blankets from sick,
The piles are growing, but not so quick,
As the few weeks when the fevers and colds
Spread like spots on grandfather toad?
And underneath the loads and piles
She finds the sewing spread miles and miles.
The quilt she started in twenty-nineteen,
Cuddled up close to her old machine,
The box for home-ec class piled high,
The teachers box is sitting nearby,
The denim patches are neatly stacked,
Inside a box for Wyatt to attack.
Shh, it's his, but don't breathe a word.
He thinks a boy shouldn't quilt. He's heard.
But can't stop here. Piled in the back
Are pens, paper cutter, a drawing stack,
Empty cartridges, paper weights,
Birthday cards from last year's dates,
A family motto, a quilting book,
Kleenex boxes, a vinyl hook,
The paper shredder, mighty full,
Scraps of satin and crepe and wool,
A sewing box, a serger - old,
Pins and thread  and scissors gold,
Mat and cutter, ruler too.
Oh, the things she finds, it's quite a view.
But on she must press, the work can't wait,
Thanks for listening for five minutes straight.

I would love to post some of the others poems. It has been a rich day!