Haiku from a Laundromat
Jul 9, 2023
Sunday morning —
the bells at Saint Francis
echo through town.
Cool silk breeze outdoors. Scent
of fabric softener drifts out to me.
Hum of laundry machines.
One man reading, one
smoking. Each a pastime away
from anxiety.
The table top I fold
clothes at smooth-worn by tens of
thousands of loads of laundry.
Sunday morning — the
poor of spirit gather
where necessity beckons.
