Un rolled.
Evidence of rolled remains.
I looked and immediately thought about the snow's melting.
How what was there is still there. Underneath
But not really. How there is motion in stillness.
I really like how the red corner folded back reveals
how the cloth was woven.
And the cross reveals the core of how I feel about weave.
How it is built by that which stands.
And that which travels across. Moves through it.
But then how the thing that stands might Unravel.
Become UnDone.
Leaving the traveler free.
The quiet room was open to yesterday's warmth.
Today closed to a new freeze.
