The hours of this day stretch out before me
Like sheets on a clothesline.
I know I need to take them
And fold them,
Arrange them neatly,
That they might fulfill their purpose.
But I am mesmerized by their gentle movement in the breeze,
By the white morning sun’s shimmering glow on them as they swing,
More interested in their shapeless shadows on the lawn than in touching them
I am content, shame on me,
To watch them hang useless…
But so pretty.