Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

I placed the basket on the grass,
damp and cold underfoot,
leaned down as wisps of hair tickled my cheek,
grasped the damp sheet and hauled it across the line,
turning my face upwards, I breathed the fresh scent
and snapped the sheet in place with the wooden peg,
took a step back and watched the wind and sun do their job, 
rustling cotton, under the summertime sky.

©Heather Carr-Rowe

The Twiglets – Twiglet #269 – rustling cotton