In an iridescent time

In an Iridescent Time

My mother, when young, scrubbed laundry in a tub,

She and her sisters on an old brick walk

Under the apple trees, sweet rub-a-dub.

The bees came round their heads, the wrens made talk.

Four young ladies each with a rainbow board

Honed their knuckles, wrung their wrists to red,

Tossed back their braids and wiped their aprons wet.

The Jersey calf beyond the back fence roared;

And all the soft day, swarms about their pet

Buzzed at his big brown eyes and bullish head.

Four times they rinsed, they said. Some things they

      starched,

Then shook them from the baskets two by two,

And pinned the fluttering intimacies of life

Between the lilac bushes and the yew:

Brown gingham, pink, and skirts of Alice blue.