Laundry

June 21 2020

The basket of wet laundry

weighed more than I thought.

One-by-one, the pieces hung heavily,

until the line drooped

under a crayon box of shirts,

empty arms limp

colours dark.

That will smell of fresh cut grass

and backyard trees

and August heat.

The ineffable scent

of summer air,

suntan oil

and grilled meat

and the gasoline

that spilled when filling the mower.

Except in late afternoon

the wind picked-up

and clouds scudded in

and some drops began to fall.

When the world turned dark

and heavy rain poured down.

How suddenly things change

in hot humid weather.

Great grey clouds

rumbling with water,

updrafts of superheated air

colliding with cold.

A summer shower,

when the sky clears

and sun reappears

as quickly as it came.

When laundry power-dries,

and the sagging line lightens

billowing in the breeze.

Fresh-rinsed clothes

dried to bone

that smell of summer rain.