Not waving, but drying.
Not surrender, but hope.
Not a reckless abandon
to the uncaring elements,
but a careful reading of the gusts,
of the distant clouds,
of any sign of coming gales.
Not waving, but drying
by a canny application
of my mother's oversized,
double applied,
long-legged, wooden pegs.
Not waving, but drying
by lunchtime.
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 3:17 PM UTC
Not waving, but drying.
Not surrender, but hope.
Not a reckless abandon
to the uncaring elements,
but a careful reading of the gusts,
of the distant clouds,
of any sign of coming gales.
Not waving, but drying
by a canny application
of my mother's oversized,
double applied,
long-legged, wooden pegs.
Not waving, but drying
by lunchtime.
