Wednesday, April 16, 2014

To the wind

A poem of three taut lines,
defined by his mother’s wash
and her clean white sails


Yvonne Osborne said...

Sheet on the line, flapping in the wind? I miss that.

William Michaelian said...

That, and the smell, and the sound, and the handing wooden clothespins one by one to my mother.

Thanks very much, Yvonne.