unfolding the wool blanket
inhaling the ancient lanolin
looking again at the carefully worked wool patterns.

letting the tassels tickle my face
the weave scratch my arms
and the captured warmth fill me with comfort

What is it about an old wool
blanket that fills me with
joy simple exquisite pleasure

that reaches into my soul in ways that only
a fellow traveller on the journeys of
life can feel.

Is it the poverty this blanket has seen
Is it the heat of the tropical days
Is it the cold of the arctic nights
Is it the richness of the love conceived
beneath this blanket

that warms me?

Angus December 30, 2000