Handknit, hand-dyed scarf.
Raw wool dipped in boiled walnuts,
transformed to mahogany brown.
Steeped in golden rod,
yellow yarn gleams.
Red wine we often sipped,
created rich burgundy section.
Scarf left behind,
she promised to return.
Summer here, woolens stowed,
save one colorful scarf.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time, come join us! Today’s word to incorporate into our quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, is wine.
Also shared at NaPoWriMo for Day 5. April is National Poetry Writing Month and the challenge is to write one poem every day during the month of April. Photo from Pixabay.com
And yes: I’ve dyed raw wool with such things as walnuts, wine, onion skins, golden rod, and even beets!
lillian the home poet 
An excellent piece
LikeLike
Beautiful Lillian!
LikeLike
Hello Linda
LikeLike
Really beautiful, and wistful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your poem flows rich like wine. I’m sorry she was not able to return for her scarf.
LikeLike
I love the use of colour in your quadrille, Lill! Iām looking forward to knitting again in the autumn. For now, my thickest woollens are indeed stowed. š
LikeLike
Love the short, crisp phrases that paint the story. I have no patience for knitting but would love a scarf in that rich colour.
LikeLike
all those lovely natural dyes – – the rhythm felt like knitting too and you cleverly wound in wine!
LikeLike
Beautiful colors and memories–and wine! It’s wistful. I wonder about her and the scarf.
LikeLike
Wonderful Lillian. My wife is a dyer, for her weaving yarns.
LikeLike
Oooh, there’s a poignancy here.
LikeLike
Learned something new here, while enjoying the read. I love the personal reveals we all share over time. Of course, I wonder who “she” is, and why she never returned; a death theme?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice! I can practically TASTE all those colors!
LikeLike
Yesterday we had spring warmth. Woke up today and the world was covered in snow. And I had to get out my woolen socks and scarf again.
Your lovely piece made me remember my mother dying yearn or fabric. How the colour could be deepened by doing over and over again. Also the smells permeating the whole house.
LikeLike
I love your poem with its raw ingredients! I remember getting black walnut stains on my hand as a child. I can feel all of the experiences you share here. Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice one, Lillian
Happy Easter
Muchšlove
LikeLike
Written with poignant longing for return of the owner of the scarlet scarf. Well penned.
LikeLike
I like how you wove the colors through this.
How well did the colors set when you dyed the wool?
LikeLike
I sense a sadness and I wonder why she never returned?
LikeLike
So lovely Lillian āŗļø
LikeLike
So beautiful!
LikeLike
“she promised to return” such poignancy in a simple line.
To put the scarf away with the rest would be akin to forgetting her, and no, you’re not ready to do that. Beautiful.
LikeLike
I love how you’ve woven all of these colours and memories into so few words. She must have been a very special friend!
LikeLike
I love this. Didn’t know you could dye yarn like that. Never done that but love to knit and a glass of wine while doing so is a favorite pastime on winter evenings.
LikeLike
Very poignantly woven, Lillian.
ā¤
David
LikeLike
So Beautiful!
LikeLike
This is beautiful!!
LikeLike
So many rich memories in the scarf, beautiful piece! ā¤
LikeLike
Such a lovely poem ….. Hand dyed yarns are the best!
LikeLike
Wow! The first time I hear of walnuts for this use. Is this the effect in the picture or is it just a random choice?
LikeLike