I'm just back from the market, getting milk, eggs and some brown bread to go with the vegetable soup tonight. And some apples to core and stuff with toasted nuts and honeyed dried fruits and then bake with whisky butter on top.
Perhaps I was made for living at home, quietly. Cooking simple meals and doing simple housework seems good to me. On the other hand, my life has been so adventurous that it seems I will never slow down. My mind is forever filled with the glory and filth of a thousand different cities.
I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
And a few lilies blow.
And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.
I wish I could light a candle in my room, or have a fireplace. I need a cat. I love wool sweaters and thick socks, window-seats and the smell of books.
Props to Hopkins for the poem, of course; it is called 'Heaven--Haven' and subtitled 'A nun takes the veil'.