Lapping at the Poet's Loft -

It must be really something in a storm, because it is a quiet, gray evening, and yet, the water lapping against the shore and supports for the house is quite a presence. I feel like I'm on a boat. I look out and all is calm. The waves are small, and there is no wind. It is a night of reaching within, and bringing forth dreams. We have the fire going and the heater. It is wintery here, and snug within.