Flannel on the clothesline

Sheds the dusty coat

Gathered in the fabric store,

All those tiny motes.

Filtered sunlight and a breeze

Scent of cedar from the trees.

Quickly! No one’s looking now.

Let them stand and wonder how

The seamstress waves her magic wand.

Of nightgowns she is very fond.

Scrunch together, stretch again,

And two new shapes, now remain.

Shapeshifters, you can take a bow,

And sleep in cozy dreamland  now.