Black Line

I have been craving solitude and trees on my walks. So I have been walking in cemeteries, hoping the dead won't talk back! Yesterday as I walked down the fire road of Oak Hill Cemetery I looked over at the row of tenements. There was a string of laundry hanging on a line that ran out of the third floor window to a pole in the back yard and every article of women's clothing was black; jeans, shirts with spaghetti straps, bras, panties, socks. I had to smile - it seemed appropriate laundry for a cemetery.