Clothes Line

The smell of rain bellowed mist into my nose, asleep I was under the cold window.

I heard a voice call me from my post. Dreary eyed I tipped toed into the Parlor.. The sun half mooned onto the Orange horizon, mama was outside.

I shuttered to think I was a spy, the rain came down making her hurry, the wind bushing a sway in her apron sending wooden clothes pins to the sky, then falling like fireworks. All that remained was the Clothes Line.