Pastoral

The clothes are hanging on the line,

the pleasant smell of detergent

mingling with the fresh

afternoon breeze,

swaying softly in time

with it

even though time seems to stop

just for a moment,

going back to something simpler

(as if anything ever existed outside

of Eden itself),

and making one wonder

why there’s a longing inside that’s

triggered by something like

the afternoon breeze

and clothes on the line