Careful Efforts
I fold the laundry, clipping stray threads
from towels washed too many times.
I sculpt tidy piles, towers of linen
that never last: bleached-white tablecloths
a prologue to sweet-tea spills, pie-crust
crumbs, signs of movement. One day,
I’ll fold these fabrics for the last time
(maybe I already have) – careful efforts
tossed in a charity bin. Every task a prayer,
a plea: that this will count for something.
from towels washed too many times.
I sculpt tidy piles, towers of linen
that never last: bleached-white tablecloths
a prologue to sweet-tea spills, pie-crust
crumbs, signs of movement. One day,
I’ll fold these fabrics for the last time
(maybe I already have) – careful efforts
tossed in a charity bin. Every task a prayer,
a plea: that this will count for something.
Heather CadenheadHeather Cadenhead is writer, wife, and mother of two boys. Her writing has been featured in the publications of such organizations as The Rabbit Room and Wild + Free — as well as in journals such as Illuminations, Reformed Journal, Literary Mama, and many others. You can find her on Substack at Firelight. She makes her home in middle Tennessee.
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