We teach each other. We help each other. We admire each other . We encourage each other. Let us each be the phenomenal woman we are meant to be. As a mother, I teaching my daughters how to become strong women, even if it is in the simple act of hanging clothes. We all have our purpose no matter the simplicity or the difficulty. Ultimately, I, too, grow as woman as I teach and learn with my daughters.
My Locus
Clothes pins of sanded wood and metal,
white plastic-coated clothes line,
a purple basket of mangled wet clothes.
A woman bending and stretching,
heat sucking the wet from hung fabric,
a breeze competing with the kissing sun.
A beautiful movement, the shirt
applauds with the wind in an orchestrated
dance of her strong back and graceful chore.
Locust sing in harmony with the summer.
She is a woman, uncommon among
hung dry clothes, regretfully unnoticed.
Wrapped in the heat of time, a woman
knows the power of her mind, as the
water knows it will slip from wet fabric.
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