Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago. It was written in the Spring.

Grandma Sheets
T.A.Marty

The sun climbed out of a tent of grandma sheets
hanging from the line.

Resting, we saw clouds pass through our sky
and over the clothesline.

This is Summers beginning
     in kernels of memory

Clean, fresh - almost time for lunch.

Sweet folded moments.

    Are we just getting old or is
a smile like
    potatoes and gravy
warm laughter like
    string beans and corn on the cob?

We are all family.

Waiting between the laundry hanging from the line
    in a trailer park
    for high-summer
    or an hour to pass
so we can go swimming.