Eye By Eye

now broad stitches, now fine ones -
eye by eye, I'll be leaning over linen
all winter long
embroidering this table cloth
but during the night
you, only you, leave
magic blossoms and branches
on the windowsill
which, even as a child
I could not get enough of
after the sun had set
and we were no longer allowed out in the frozen yard
I am just a poor laborer
hoping for a handful of pennies
for all my trouble
but how happy
the thought makes me
coming to mind unexpectedly -
that like the woman who will receive my handiwork
who will pass it on to her daughter, granddaughter, great granddaughter
each one spreading over the holiday table -
pure snow-whiteness decorated with flowers and branches
that something even more wonderful than that
sparkles on my own windowsill -
your blossoms, your ferns, your palm trees