As you step in, a calm washes over you so profound it feels like stepping through a waterfall. A part of you falls away, and your body moves automatically, like you've been here a thousand times forever. Back out the door, One arm of logs, kick your shoes off, over to the fireplace, stoop then sit, a handful of kindling from the shallow bowl, a handful of papers from the stack, a hand in your pocket for the lighter. You steward the flame attentively until its life can hold itself together. Coat off, door closed, a peek out the window at the sunset. Food, cooked, eaten slow. Eye drooped, and asleep in the chair. No waiting for preamble. Whatever comes tomorrow is for tomorrow. Right now, you're home. {{8}}