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Washing Day

Pegged haphazardly they hang

Weighted by water and volume

Private garments for all to see

Crisp drying in the Sun.

The sight comforts me

Knowing now...

She has wrung and hung

With hands crippled by time

Rings sunken into flesh

Swollen by weary heart

She has navigated steps

With laundry basket in hand

On mis-shapen feet

Encased in the sensible shoes of old age

She has ignored the pain

Of vertebrae long broken

To carry out this timeless task

In the breaking of a sunny day...

After driving rain

The song of birds...

After the whine of mosquitoes

The bright summer blooms...

After months of frost

Ignoring age

Taking simple pleasures

One day at a time.

I call a greeting; and

Knowing she hears me,


I continue running up the hill.

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