Wind Blown

Laundry on the line

For all the world to see

Basking in sunlight

Fresh sheets blowing in the wind

A fresh smell like no other

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Clothes from the washer

Suds squeezed out through the ringer

Woman’s work back then

Monday morning wash day

Life’s simple routine repeated

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Wicker basket filled

Undies just hung on the line

Wooden clothes pins tight

No one then gave it a thought

Whether the neighbors saw them

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Phosphate soap bubbles

Tide will always get them clean

Good fresh smells linger

Dry clothes pressed on ironing board

Folded put up by supper

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

At d’Verse this evening, De asked us to write a poem about laundry! I grew up in the days when clothes were washed in a ringer washer and washtubs, hung on the line outside with wooden clothes pins, and ironed on an ironing board in the kitchen! No need for fabric softener back then the clothes always smelled wonderful. I decided to do a series of tankas.

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Wash Line Memories

Clothes on the line

Wash Line Memories

Lines strung across the yard to the apple tree

Electric pole and butternut make three

Held up in the middle with a big long prop

Just a long skinny pole with a nail in the top

Morning dew quickly takes leave

Clothes carried from the basement in a basket of weave

Wooden clothes pins in a bulging bag

Some have heads others squeeze to hold the rags

Shirts and underwear flap pretty as you please

Jeans and sheets hang carefree in the breeze

Neighbors next door see everything you wear

Back then it didn’t matter we didn’t give a care

Towels loose moisture but not their good smell

When you wash with Tide you know all is well

The best part of all are those wind blown sheets

Crawling in bed getting ready to sleep

There’s no better bed in the entire world

Than one just made with windblown sheets

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth