Retreat Poem

Twas Two Months Before Retreat

‘Twas two months before Retreat, and down at Land’s End,

Not a Bernina was stirring, nor a Pfaff, nor a Ken(more).


The rulers were packed, and the cutting mats, too,

In hopes that the quilters bring the rest of their tools.


The quilters were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of fabric danced in their heads.


And Alice in her kerchief, and Patrice in her cap,

Could only dream of a long winter’s nap.


There were blocks to be tested, and a mystery to solve

And lots more tasks the Homer quilters to involve.


There were irons to count, and menus to choose

Seward had been so efficient, they had nothing to lose.


The door prizes they gathered, attendee gifts they sewed,

Tee shirts were ordered, and assignments they chose.


When out on the bay, there arose such a clatter,

I raced from my studio to see what was the matter.


Away to the window I flew like a flash,

(Remembering rule #1, first hide your fabric stash!)


When what to my near-sighted eyes should appear,

But a miniature quilt and eight tiny reindeer.


With a charming little quilter, so lively and hip,

I knew at that moment she must be St. Snips.


More rapid than a serger, her stitchers they came

And she whistled and shouted and called them by name


“Now Bobbin, now Batting, now Piecer and Princess!

On Notions, on Patterns, on Batiks and Best Press!


To the edge of the sashing, to the borders so tall,

Now bind away, bind away, bind away all!”


And I heard her exclaim as she flew toward the east,

“I have February off, so save me a seat!”

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