This is for those of us who have trundled
to an outside line and had the
satisfaction of pegging wet clean
laundry, watching it whipping in the breeze.
Can we ever forget the smell of sleeping
on sheets that have hung out in the fresh
air--the smell of the sun and the sweet
clean grass in them?
This is for those of you who haven't, and
have only known an inside dryer. It's
not too late to string up a line somewhere,
or just drape a few wet items over a
nice clean shrub and then bury your face
in them when dry, and inhale the
perfume that is like none other.
Some don't even let the snow deter them.
Old pegs that keep soldiering on.
Curious pegs, peeking down the line.
Upright pegs, just doing their job.
What's this? A lamb among the linens!
And the golden sun bleaching white.
A soft flapping sound greets me,
like the sounds of a sail at sea.
1 comment:
I miss my clothesline..... and my Gramma doing wash on Mondays.
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