Counting the Cost

Counting the Cost

Sick of more than my shirts shrinking 

in this dry-heat age of efficiency,

I tacked a clothesline from two trees

to take a stand with soil, sky,

and the tenuous work of being

strung between. Mid-70’s with a breeze, 

and things were clipping along nicely 

when Andrew called to lay out 

how his Labrador puppy was crushed

by a car on their walk, came yelping

back to the house, turned a tight circle

and died in the yard, a loss miles away

from a child or spouse but near enough

to make clear it's one thing

on an Autumn day like this to talk

the talk about how precious to be skin-

wrapped, wind-born and billowed, 

but when it whips right up 

and rips off the line what you thought 

sufficiently secured, you better be sure.