Retreat

Her house is a retreat. A sanctuary. Built by an architecture professor who understood. Big spaces for sparks of movement. Small spaces for nesting and warmth. A house of alchemy. Huge panes frame the newly-green world. Ensconsed in rain. I melt into the house. Pillowed, wooden arms. I knit. The cats stretch toward the warm stove. I sleep. The dewy bunny sits in the kitchen. I rest my mind. Birds pause at the swaying feeder. And I allow. My body. Until night shade.