He unpacks his bag of taleswith fingers quickas a weaver's picking the weft...

He unpacks his bag of tales
with fingers quick
as a weaver's picking the weft threads threading the warp.
Watch his fingers.
Watch his lips
speaking the old familiar words: All those threads
pulling us back
to another world, another time,
when goosegirls married well
and frogs could rhyme,
when maids spoke syllables of pearl
and stepmothers came to grief.
.... {from poem}