Linens

Linens

One of the things I like is to pick up linens,
not massive amounts, just one here and there.
I also like to collect plates and dishes this way on occasion too,
Put into my drawings, a thing just about me, lady lost.
My linens are stored until I want to paint them.
Represent the china traditions of my woman life.

I like April Cornell linen colors.
Especially the corals and turquoises.
The passionate juicy red pomegranate.
Waiting a luncheon or my dream picnic in the grass.

When I was young I hung with many elderly ladies in my neighborhood.
They starched and washed their linens for social affairs.
Maybe that's why I've liked to iron, cook, have a home.
Maybe for Mom's day, I'd like some time away alone with mine.

Actually I sat out under a couple trees today,
Watching the leaves moving for hours like ripples in the water.
Saw the air as water. Life. Spring.
Just to see that was beautiful beyond measure.
The liquid moving the japonica, as my being alive wrestled with the vision.

Cornell isn't something I can explain to you.
Nor is skipping work watching leaves.
And I can't explain writing these pieces that also fall
or why now at 47 my mind really can go completely blank.
Wrestling with how an iron puts form into the wrinkles.

Thus you can call it meditative.
It seems to cause others a great deal of distress.
The ordinary linens to be ironed today.
Linens..oh.. Goes to my connections and past experiences.
Very nice linens. I've liked starching them.