Language of the Eyes and Thread

Without a clue to what with awl I punched
The intracacies of chaotic lines sewed
I worked on a stitched bedspread with spun wool thread
With pelts of leather stacked & stiched 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 hеad
With a ring of eyes therе 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
Im a gesturing hand. Perusing & pioiting it
Made more sense than any book I'd scanned