I think of washing something
so hot and so thoroughly
that it comes out like new.
I think of the white lambs
down the lane again,
untarnished by this muddy life,
(all except for their bony knees,
for they must kneel to find
their mother’s milk).
And just like this,
life has a way of sullying, doesn’t it,
of tiring, dirtying, and distracting us,
when all we really want
is to come out of the wash
like new, pure of heart,
like the lambs down the lane,
untired of this life,
gambolling their way
through the days.
elisabeth pike 