Two things that are lovely on this earth—flocks of birds and linen flapping on a clothes line. Here’s a poem about them.
The Flock
They rise up like
billowing linen on a line
set free from wooden pegs
their ruffled hems fanning out
as borders of black and pink cross stitch
smooth into silent shades of gray
leaving behind airing pillows
and comforters stuffed
with feathers.