to look through
our long narrow window
is to see a rectangle of beyond
your underwear drying, cotton,
my undershirt cotton, too,
back and front pinched to the line,
and only half of our double flowered sheet;
you love cotton, you said
rhapsodic one day:
the smell of cotton in the sun
how we see the wind—see the wind
pumping high ever back
a kid on a swing to come forward—
and how on the flowered sheet at midnight
cotton to cotton
on cotton we feel that sun
tangled in the wind
There are many things that make Grace want to get up in the morning: family and friends—sitting with them and talking—writing, singing classical choral music, cooking, that first morning cup of strong, sweet tea, working in the shade garden she made without knowing she would love it, a certain small town in northern California where she and her husband have an orchard—itʼs quite a list. Grace Hughes Chappell’s poems and other pieces of writing have been published in the Sunday SF Chronicle, the Richmond ReView, the Anderson Valley Advertiser and Short Fiction by Women, and online at Your Daily Poem, Haiku Journal, Eunoia, Every Day Poets, Tanka Journal, and Front Porch Review. She also writes the classical music program notes for the choral ensembles, Vox Dilecti and the San Francisco City Chorus—forty-two concerts and counting.
2 thoughts on “A Poem by Grace Hughes Chappell”
I love Grace’s poems, and this one beautifully describes the joy of drying (cotton) laundry in the sun..
There seems to always be such intimate clarity in Grace’s poetry. In this one you can smell the warm sun on cotton. Oh how lovely to climb into such a bed!