hanging clothes

I see my mother in the backyard
at the clothes line, wooden
clothes pins in her mouth,
stuffed
in the deep pocket of her apron.
I see her hanging wet
clothes on the line.
sheets and dresses, pants
and shirts. the white basket
beside her is full
and heavy.
the grass is wet and cold
against her feet.
a wind blows. it might be late
march, or april. wild flowers
fill the yard.
she sees me in the window
and waves. I wave back
as she smiles and blows me
a kiss.