Issue #102

We missed the cistern
By a few lucky inches
And now there’s a hole

In the ground that in
Time will become a kitchen
Where the five of us

Will gather to drink
Tea or argue or laugh or
Celebrate, where we’ll

All grow older. Hard
To picture where the sink will
Be, but easy to

Imagine stories
Over a bottle of wine
When there are no walls

Yet. They rake pea stone
Like a Zen garden and you
See why they call it

The foundation. Art
Of the blueprint springs to life -
Lines become rock, wood.

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