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Blue, Green, Red and Purple: Housewife's Picnic

Betty Collinsís poem reveals that some housewives have been indoctrinated to define the world in terms of household chores.

The mountains look like the unmade beds of giants
Rumpled and crumpled
And letís face it, rather grubby in this light
Those birds blowing about over there
Look very untidy; and there are so many kinds of them
They need to be sorted.
Besides the fact that the clouds have not been neatly folded
But tossed any old how into the sky,
They need a good wash.
Theyíre awfully blotchy.
Furthermore, I donít like the way this sand and dust and dried leaves etc.
Has blown all over the rocks and grass, and no one has seen fit
To sweep it up.
When Iím at home between my safe clean four walls
I have nothing to fear; no discomfort, no germs, even.
I have a system, a plan, a routine.

I havenít got time to waste going into the country.
Only unsettles the mind for the coming week, I always find.


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