This is one of my earlier poems published in the mid 1990’s in Poetic Page. I still am seeking that perfect photo to accompany this.
Flapping in the Breeze
It’s all out there,
every last stitch:
the socks, the shorts, the underwear,
the party dress, the everyday dress,
the overalls, the flannel shirts,
the T-shirts, jeans, skirts—
flapping in the breeze.
They gossip between themselves
juicy tidbits about our harried lives;
hanging on the clothesline.
I’ve washed it all; scrubbed hard
each stain I could find.
Missed a few spots, here and there—
tell-tale remnants of barbeques,
toddler spit-ups, greasy fry-days,
grass stains from backyard ball games.
Sun-faded hopes, whispers of dreams.
I can almost make out words;
the wind is picking up,
whipping the sheets like sails
across a sea of grass.
The blue sky hides behind a wall
of boiling grey thunderclouds.
Time to take it in, the wash,
the reminiscences of a life—
pack it away before the raindrops fall.
I’ll not do it all over again.
This load is done washed and dried.
c.Darlene Moore Berg