Language of the Eyes and Thread

Without a clue to what with awl I punched
the intricacies of chaotic lines sewed
I worked on a stitched bedspread with spun wool thread
with pelts of leather stacked & stitched slow
Firmly placing & tucking with the same drive on how one
would try to read
Each thread though randomly placed went through a
determined hole
The bedspread was near done outside I sewed in
the sun when a quaking spirit with a long stitched
stature, topped by to arms & black wood head
with a ring of eyes There were needles
on down the sides each ending in a black wood
bead. It picked at the spread as if plucking a
harp & scanned it like a book I felt dismayed
& crazy afraid at how it attended the work
But with the needles & beads it sewed up
a near red tree & the thread was made up of
red vies from legs holding beads
Then it expected me to read its work
in a gesturing hand. Perusing & pioiting it
made more sense than any book I'd
scanned.