that we could appreciate the clever stitchery and animal appliqué,
perhaps read a gentle tome or two.
Then they came, emerging at first tentatively from of the recesses of the room. The terrorist twins,
the subversive nanna,
the boho, political agitator,
the oppressed, laundry laden mama,
the underpaid zebra,
the charismatic odd ball,
all lined up by their leader...
missiles ready, expressions fixed and determined...
pawns in the hands of a greater power.
She has always called them 'my people' but I took it to be in a more congregational way rather than a revolutionary one. She relished the numbers she had rallied. "Two, two!" she exclaimed zealously, gesturing wildly...
before launching into a crazed marching dance around her Quiltenberg Rally.