Praise Song for a Clothesline in Drought

As I am shaking out the sheet, before I’ve even pinned it to the line and stepped away, the minutest winged creatures land on it to drink from the damp fibers. They are thirsty in this dry time, too small to drink safely from the birdbath or even the bee fountain. They drink the water from this sheet as though it were a leaf damp with dew, as though it were a rock slick with rainwater. Their fleet wings glint in the sun, bedazzling our bedclothes. Light upon light upon light.