Waiting for Spring
On The first good drying day
as Winter failed
The single tub whirled into life
Scent of soap filled up the air
Steam rose out from the frothing waters
as writhing ropes of cloth were pressed
through groaning mangle
Squeezing water from their tangle
Out In the garden
Wind whipped back the hair
from my mother’s ruddy face
As she tethered tents of steam wreathed
sheets and Woollie blankets
Onto a rope with wooden pegs
The crack of stiffened linen
Unfurling in a freshening breeze
Like new set sails on Sea foamed Galleons
Heralding the end of Winters freeze
Now so many years later , in her garden
at my feet ,
the children of snowdrops
she planted long ago
appear in drifts of snowy white
amongst the rime sparked blades of grass
Their Alabaster heads caught in the draft
So delicate
Yet they’ve withstood the coldest times
Bringing memories flooding back
of my mum on bended knees
pressing the bulbs into the turf
to rest and wait for springs rebirth