When they say me life has ended
An' my grave a nightdress be,
I will ha' strung a string of hours:
The pearls in finite sea.
Below each hour I have roomed
In a Home with walls of air ...
A floor o' Fire, a Ceiling of water,
An' a bit o' earth to Garden there ...
We buy our cottage today. A sweet Cape, close to markets for food, coffee shops to write in, and snug in a sweet neighborhood.