respite

trapped in a snow squall in my drafty nest. lost my train of thought for a bit. ok, a couple weeks. npr on so low i can only hear it when i hold my breath. on the window there is a framed photo of the coast of vinalhaven, maine. my final destination. the cats are unraveling the caning on an old white chair that i found in smithfield, va. i find my mind drifting to random images of two or three bin laundry sinks that would work well along the side of the house as a gardening bench base. i intenionally redirect. to a small resturant in a rural area. maybe it is mine. it's evening, in the summer, and there is a tiny potager garden in front, and white windsors with a bake oven made of stone in the side yard, where i would produce pies, and breads for the amazed guest.