News from the Island by Tracey Sullivan
I met the weaver today scalloping burnished gold onto tamed hanks of lacebark, porous and sunbleached tissue thin strips of lathed bone. He was cold, the weaver, but he talked sunnily enough of commissions and traditional uses for the bark - bandages and summer cloaks - as spring sun sparkled crisply on the bay. He gave me news of the cloak I coveted