Image by atrphoto via Flickr
The Laundry Parade
Laundry marches down my clothesline, post-dawn
Before the egg's cracked or bacon begins to spit
In the cool morning breeze they are drawn up
And shuttled one by one into their given spots,
Each damp shoulder tucked against his fellow's
All day they are there in an obedient row
Stretching from the backdoor to the garage
Flowing and snapping in ceaseless formation,
One grand color coordinated battallion,
Today a troop of brave, bleached whites
Yesterday a platoon of red, all glowing in the sun
When I take them down at dusk and finger them,
They are crisp from standing at attention
For hours in the sun, their very fibers thick
With all the remembered effort and so as a release
I shake each playfully in the evening breeze,
Wiggle them and dance their various stiff joints.
And then I lap them into restful accordion folds
Soft, fragrant layers of rest, all piled together
In the wicker basket I carry in for the night.
You can find all the other entries for Poetry Friday at A Year of Reading. Hop on over and check them out!