Barbara Fisher: ‘Drying’ and ‘Remington Music’

Drying

It took us by surprise
to walk into that village
somewhere in Italy
all those years ago
to find the hedges, bushes
and any low-lying branches
dressed in white, strewn
with washing spread to dry.
How good that linen must have smelt
—lavender and herbs and pine—
and full of sun and air
when gathered up.

My grandmother would have marvelled
at the village women’s lack
of lines or props or hoist.
She who loved “a good drying day”
and the decorum of properly pegged clothes
(underwear behind the towels),
relished the slap and crackle of sheets
blowing in the breeze;
but she would have shared their pleasure
in folding up the sun.

Barbara Fisher

Remington Music

Dear Henry James, so teaseable and kind,
a man of such scrupulous courtesy,
who could not have wished him for a friend
or enjoyed the splendid absurdity
of the famous circumlocutions when obliged
to give an order or ask the way?
And who would not feel privileged
to witness the hours with Miss Bosanquet?
The Remington music spurred him on she said,
as she faithfully typed each precious word.

Barbara Fisher