Clouds of wool (literally)
Billowing in the basket beside you
You stopped your work briefly
While I read you a poem
Better than this one
Of the wild strangeness
That sometimes rises to life
When we’ve stopped expecting it
It has me looking out the corner of my eye
Only half in hope
With half a plan
For how to keep my domesticated life
Safely hidden here in your basket
Wrapped in billowing wool