All day the blanket snapped and swelled <br />on the line, roused by a hot spring wind.... <br /> From there it witnessed the first sparrow, <br />early flies lifting their sticky feet, <br />and a green haze on the south-sloping hills. <br />Clouds rose over the mountain....At dusk <br />I took the blanket in, and we slept, <br />restless, under its fragrant weight.<br /><br />Jane Kenyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wash/
