Not every stitch is strong

I would steam through
Disregarding dropped stitches
Confused by

We shyly showed samplers
Holes and all
Picking up each other's stitches
Laid our patches side by

Yet I learned to weave
The art room ringed with looms
Spotting others whose yarns
Stood out in

The magic machine
Never came to my hands
Others held its power
I bowed to their taste
While I

How to start
Teacher will cast on for you

In through the bunny-hole
Round the big tree
Out

A few lines of black ink
A swoop up, a swirl.
Two distant figures reach up,
Lean back and heave