Poetry Sunday

I don't mind doing most household chores, especially those dealing with cooking and the kitchen, but I really don't enjoy doing laundry. It's a necessary evil, and I always feel a sense of accomplishment when I finish putting away the clothing and bedding that I've sorted, washed, dried, folded, and neatly piled in appropriate piles, but I don't enjoy doing it the way I enjoy cooking and ... especially ... gardening. Today's poem by George Bilgere looks at laundry and the memories it evokes of a time when our mothers actually hung laundry in the sun to dry ... 

Laundry

by George Bilgere

My mother stands in this black

And white arrangement of shadows

In the sunny backyard of her marriage,

Struggling to pin the white ghosts

Of her family on the line.

I watch from my blanket on the grass

As my mother's blouses lift and billow,

Bursting with the day. 

My father's white work shirts

Wave their empty sleeves at me, 

And my own little shirts and pants

Flap and exult like flags

In the immaculate light.

It is mid-century, and the future lies

Just beyond the white borders 

Of this snapshot; soon that wind

Will get the better of her

And her marriage. Soon the future 

I live in will break 

Through those borders and make

A photograph of her-but

For now the shirts and blouses

Are joyous with her in the yard

As she stands with a wooden clothespin

In her mouth, struggling to keep

The bed sheets from blowing away. 

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. Don't let the dirty laundry pile up.

More thoughts coming.

Bilbo