Mum's Wool Winder
|Sheltand Wool Winder and Hearth|
When wool came in hanks
Mum would use whoever handy
to hold their arms straight
so she could wind hank to ball.
There was a trick to holding it,
a rhythm that shifted you
from right and from left
with a subtle release of the thumb
at just the right time.
Then dad make her the wool winder.
First seen in Shetland I believe
it was just a simple design,
two reels and a ladder
crafted in a workshop haunted by kids.
A quiet man, my father never voiced his love
letting instead the shaping of the wood
and each tender plane and polish
speak for him.
The wool winder sits on my hearth now,
beside a fading photograph
and every day it reminds me
of that other fireside in a family warmed.
All poetry is copyright to AnnMackieMiller