I gather laundry from the dryer
In one full-armed embracing bundle,
Eschewing the basket, and transfer
The clump of clothes to the bed for the folding.
This pile is your goddam life;
The ceaseless flattening, sorting,
Un-creasing represents your present.
Those stray dropped socks
And yellow collared shirts are the past.
You can always go back for them later.
The future is this warm cozy sweater
That smells like irises and lavender.
I want to wear it
Before it cools.
So I better finish the folding fast