WASH DAY

WASH DAY

Robin
On the clothes pole,
White sheets blowing
On the line.
Until the old wood breaks,
Tumbling to the grass
In pieces.
Flicking the little bird
Into the waiting hedge.
Its tiny redness
Glowing against the green.

Sending the sparrows
Living quietly,
Fluttering, yelling alarm.
Those robins!
We always knew this would happen.

The cat crouched crossly
On the edge
Of the sudden whiteness.
Wishing it had something
To bite.
To tear apart.
Flexing its claws at the blameless robins.
Itching to kill the harmless sparrows.

Between them,
Turning the quiet garden
Into scary disorder,
Frightening chaos.

All that was missing
Were placards
Denouncing the wind.

And what does the wind care.

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