The plump woman,
outside a modest white washed cottage
that had bright flowers along its walls
making it look a timeless picture of bliss,
was doing her washing,
which she hung on a line between carob trees
where jeans, blouses and attires of a more intimate kind
waved in the summer breeze;
her dog, golden as the sand of time didn’t stir.
Later she folded the washing neatly into a basket
and went into the kitchen to prepare food for her husband,
the clatter awoke the dog
which got up scratched, yawned
and went to sit by the kitchen door.