The Gown

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Written February 2025

This is not cotton baked in the field, then woven 

Into cloth that cools as she dances,

Nor machine-made filaments that tickle the skin,

Or olden-day flax simply meant for a sack,

But the finest of threads graciously given

By the worm that cocoons itself for death

Until we come and unravel what she made

Preparing for a family’s future. 

But now the gown is shaped and fashioned,

Its folds adding grace as it trails behind 

In the best of the dance floor,

Delighting a cheering crowd,

Watching the fleckerl of a Viennese waltz 

While the silkworm keeps up her spinning.  

February 2025 

 
Watching Strictly Come Dancing with Wendy has introduced me to some of the steps on the dance-floor, and then a day with water-colours!