Housework

I was simply hanging out the clothes

on a long strung clothes line,

pinning undershirts and winter long johns

with clothes pins in the still cold,

sun lighted air.

There was no rhyme nor reason,

yet I looked up into a sky blue sky,

wisps of inconsequential ice crystals

trailing along negligible winds.

And I thought of you.

There could be no earthly connection,

except the one in my mind.

And the random chance of our first meeting

might never have happened,

and then we looked into eyes

so unmistakably ordinary,

except for whatever happened in our minds.

And did you see the waning moon rising

through bare branches that revealed almost everything

and nothing last night after our guests had gone?

And so early to bed

and late to rise

and awake sometime in the middle

of a night that might never have happened,

except there were plates and bowls stacked,

glasses nearly clinking together by the sink.

There must have been soup and forgettable talk

and leftover apricot bars on the counter.

And as I turned, I saw that you

had forgotten the clementines I had left out for your lunch.

My mind has been filled with sky blue sky,

and love possibly exists in dirty dish water.

Even the plugged-in fire in the fireplace last night,

burned flames only in our imagination.

**

Bonus: Of course, it isn't strictly true, but you can dance, anyway: