i leave the pegs on the clothesline, waiting

instead of gathering them in

like some would maintain

that i that should do

~~~~

and today they playfully cavort

twisting in the wind, merrily coloured

hanging on for dear life–and succeeding

just as they were designed

on this otherwise dismal day

~~~~

and i imagine if i were a peg

that this is what i’d prefer

i could be lying safely inside

but in a box, restrained

~~~~

no, i would rather embrace the gale

–and DANCE

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022