I’m writing from a different chair
in a fresh corner
with new shadows and light
an afghan drapes across the couch
begonia cuttings steep in a Ball glass jar
shelves line with canisters
of blond buckwheat
brown rice
flax seeds
and green mung beans

outside the kitchen window
the mountain is shrouded
in early morning misting
rain clouds

one day I’m going to zip up
my knee-high leather boots
and walk through Italy
but for now
this is my villa
with a stone basin
and fresh-cut basil on the table

I’m loving being home