on my monthly trip to visit my family in Brooklyn I saw this woman near a little house in the northern Catskills. It inspired me because for me,sleeping between wind dried sheets is a favorite luxury.

I worked on the poem. I wanted to use the phrase 'the best smell in the world' but it just wouldn't

work. Pen and ink is so fun for me to work with.

ON A BRIGHT BLUE DAY

IN LATEST WINTER

I SAW, FROM THE WINDOW OF THE SOUTH BOUND BUS,

A WOMAN, BENT AND OLD,

SLOWLY HOIST A WET SHEET ONTO HER CLOTHESLINE.

THE WIND TOOK HOLD AND SENT IT FLYING UPWARD!

CHICKADEES CALLED.

THERE WERE SNOWDROPS NEXT TO OLD PATCHES OF SNOW.

I SMILED, IMAGINING HER DREAMS THAT NIGHT

SPUN OF THE GOLDEN AIR,

THE BIRD SONG

AND THE PROMISE OF SPRING

AS SHE SLEPT IN HER WIND WASHED BED.