A Flutter in the Linen

I hooked my top spring over the taut hemp clothesline, right between two wooden clothespins. A wide white linen pillowcase was hanging beside me, swaying in slow, billowy folds. Whenever the breeze swelled, the sun-warmed fabric swept softly across my frame, swaddling my chime tubes in a quiet, muffled rustle. Instead of pulling away, I leaned into the cottony swell, letting each crest lift my wings before trailing off into the open air. The crisp scent of fresh laundry and warm air settled around me, perfectly rhythmic, without making a single sound.