A small striped sleeve in her lap, br navy and white, br needles carefully whipping in yarn br from two sides. br She reminds me of the wide-angled women br filled with calm br I pretended I was related to br in crowds. br br In the next seat br a yellow burst of wool br grows into a hat with a tassel. br She looks young to crochet. br I'm glad history isn't totally lost. br Her silver hook dips gracefuly. br br And when's the last time you saw br anyone sew a pocket onto a gray linen shirt br in public? br Her stitches must be invisible. br A bevelled thimble glitters in the light. br br On Mother's Day br three women who aren't together br conduct delicate operations br in adjoining seats br between La Guardia and Dallas. br Miraculously, they never speak. br Three different kinds of needles, br three snippy scissors, br everybody else on the plane br snoozing with The Times. br When the flight attendant br offers free wine to celebrate, br you'd think they'd sit back, br chat a minute, br tell who they're making it for, br trade patterns, br yes? br br But a grave separateness br has invaded the world. br They sip with eyes shut br and never say br Amazing br or br Look at us br or br May your thread br never break. br br br Submitted by R.