the saturday wash

there was a time
when you could look out
your bedroom window
and see
the flags
of laundry hanging
on the lines.
from yard to yard.
the women
reaching upwards
with clothes pins,
a basket of wet
wash at their
feet. saturdays
in the green squared
lawns divided
by chain link
fences. neither poor
nor rich, but
forever inbetween.
happy to have a yard,
a line with which
to hang the things
made clean.