By Jim Bates

Set firmly in the ground
It had its own spot in the backyard
A heavy-duty metal post with wooden arms attached
Held together with clothesline rope
A lever controlled it going up and down
A thing of mechanical beauty
Simple utility and grace

His mother hung sheets from it every week
White cotton flags waving in the wind
The kids would run back and forth under it
“Get away from there!” she’d yell
Laughing they’d run away loving the game.

At night he lay in bed 
Reading a Hardy Boys mystery
Listening to a baseball game on his silver transistor radio
Wrapped in those sun-drenched sheets crinkly and cool
Until lights out
Then snuggling in amid the aroma of outdoors
With just a hint of sunshine
Eyes slowly closing until finally 
Drifting into peaceful sleep
Fresh summertime sheets flapping gently
In a tender dreamy breeze.

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