While Sandi Spins

Before the first soft rays of dawn
Begin their crawl out of the sea 
Along the sand, across the lawn 
To peek through windows furtively
She sits before her wheel.

Her skillful fingers smooth and ply
Untidy fibers into thread
As sunlight, passing through and by,
Is fondling each vivid shred  
In hopes of tactile feel.

The subtle whispers of her spool, 
Now nearly full, are want to rest
While looming rays explore the room 
And countless vibrant skeins caress
Of her unique designs.

She rises to inspect a mass
Of newly drying tinted wool.
Each touch of Sun recedes at last 
In quiet quest to dim and cool,
And she, at length, reclines.