The dryer sits silent in efficient electric
reproach. It can’t be happiness,
this slow business of hanging sheets
on a cloudy day, one by one, untangling,
lifting, pinning in place, my bare shoulder
brushed by soft wet cotton, hanging them
knowing the brooding clouds may bring me soon
to gather them back. In the sudden sun and rising breeze
the sheets flap, illuminated. They relax their wrinkles.
happiness is always a synonym for simple.
I love this!
I can smell the rain in this poem.
“efficient electric reproach” What an image!
one of the great pleasures of my life:
hanging clothes on the line.
Love that last line!
In this sentence, a heart is drawn, for you to understand in an image, what this poem made me feel.