Perfect Weather for Drying Clothes
June 11 2014


Perfect weather for drying clothes.
So why am I doing laundry
on the one day of the year
it feels like paradise?
When the sun is high, and the air dry
and the blackflies
have not yet begun
their persecution?

A gentle wind
ripples the clothes
neatly pegged to their line,
like multi-coloured prayer flags
snapping smartly.
Not abasement, or supplication, or fear,
but gratitude
to the weather gods,
through whose gracious dispensation I stand
naked, on the back deck,
with wet clothes, wooden pegs
the reassuring sense
of order conferred.

The sun burns.
The creaky wheel
stiffly turns.
And the line curves
in a widening smile
as it fills,

the beatitude of no-iron dry.
Each piece of clothing

telling a story
of provenance, and when I wore it,
or with whom
I took it off.

The perfect day for drying clothes
is when you need none.
How good it feels;
hot sun, on bare skin
bug-free,
a cool breeze

tempering the warmth.

A perfect day
for everything-into-the-wash.
For a fresh start,
naked as the day you were born.


Total privacy here; and a great way to do something useful while catching some rays. And it makes me realize that even when it's warm, between the bugs and the rain and the wind, it's not every day you get to dry laundry outdoors. (Not to mention how infrequently I do laundry!)

I've used the "prayer flag" analogy in a previous clothesline poem (I think this is either the 3rd or 4th of that rare genre of poetry!), and along with "paradise" it naturally led to the religious metaphor that infuses the rest of the piece. "Beatific smile” crossed my mind, but "bountiful" sounded better, and then “widening” won out; so it was left to “beatitude”, which got its own line. The word fits nicely with "provenance":  not the idea of origin, but the echo of "providence" -- the provision through grace. And the only kind of prayer I find legitimate: that is, an offering gratitude; rather asking for things, or abasing yourself in fear and shame and guilt.

Chores like doing laundry do just what I said: confer a gratifying sense of order; give the illusion of a fresh start. So "naked as the day you were born" ends up bringing the piece full circle.