fiber soup

Last winter the spinning group I am a part of decided to mix it up and create what is called ‘fiber soup’.  We each brought a small amount of some fiber that we wanted to share, and each of us drew bits from the fibers that called to us.  Then we set out to spin.  This poem was inspired by that day.


we gather

each bringing an ingredient

for the soup

tufts of color fill the table

from small bits of unused fiber

wool and tinsel

on its own, not enough

to draw from


I begin

starting with the

deep brown black

the fibers take a

thick lofty form

my hands working

in sync with the spin of the wheel

in sync with my breath

I honor that connection

my ancestors as I draft

feeling the fibers pass

through my fingers

my grandmother’s fingers


as i reach for the next tuft

slow transition in color

a deep blue through shades of brown

fibers joined through community

a beautiful reminder of

what I am learning here

in and from this group of island neighbors

the love of fiber to spin is what joins us

blue to red through brown and grey

a plum color emerges

each tuft, on its own could, in no way

emerge with such beauty

it takes this soup

and to look over at another’s work

is to see a completely different spinning

from the same!


It is like artists, drawing

from the same palate

to paint abstract lines

in the landscape of a wintery



Linda Moore

Vashon 2013


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