The washer woman hung out her clothes,
Crisp, clean, starched upon the lines
Running amok through my yard.
A cacophony of wind-driven linens
Flapping and swaying on this hot, humid morning.
She was as brisk as the wind
Though far more precise as she worked
Quickly, succinctly in the voluminous back yard.
The washer woman hummed some
Long forgotten tune as she worked.

10/17/2006

Author's Note: One of my favorite memories of my mother.

Posted on 10/19/2006
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