Hanging the washing at bedtime

The dawn will dry you
Coming up over the houses
Spreading out across the low fences
Where conversations spread yard to yard in summertime
And barbecue smoke makes us hungry
From six houses down the street.

The dawn will dry you
Rising up above the chimneys
Casting shadows across the street
So our chimneypots sweep the neighbours' doorstep
And the trees backing onto our garden
Fall into our dining room.