SUMMER DAYS

When Mother hangs the laundry out
Along the backyard lines,
I steal between the flowing sheets
While all the morning shines.

The sheets are cool and dripping wet                                                             
And it’s shady here inside,
As I walk my breezy corridor
In my favorite place to hide.

I can smell the bleach and soap
In a world all white and clean,
In this hallway of the clouds
Where I know I can’t be seen.

When I reach the morning light
Outside the sheets and shade,
I hear my Mother calling me
As her voice begins to fade.

It’s time to do the morning chores
Before the sun’s too high,
To gather from our garden
The beans before they dry.

When Mother brings the laundry in
I’m there to help her fold.
I think about the sun in them
In bed when nights are cold.

                                   —- James S. Taylor
 

James S. Taylor has been a teacher of English and American literature, Humanities, Western Civilization, and Philosophy of Education for 35 years. He is a poet and the author of Poetic Knowledge: the Recovery of Education. This poem is published here for the first time with his kind permission. It was sent by his friend, the Rev. James W. Jackson, FSSP, a reader of The Thinking Housewife.

                                                                             — Comments —

Rita writes:

I love this poem. A poem that makes me feel – and rhymes – is sublime.

Laura writes:

It’s a jewel of a poem, isn’t it? In form and meaning.  The sound and image of  “the sheets and shade” is so beautiful and memorable.

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