"The House was Quiet and the World was Calm"

I always think of this poem by Wallace Stevens when I'm trying to get back to that quiet calm of just me and my words going in and out like a silent breath. Home alone. The cats sleeping in their oblivious way while I find my story again and the two of us escape, alone, in the safety of the calm.

Between travel and school vacation and freelance jobs and reading manuscripts and tackling bathroom renovation and raking up rocks (please don't ask), it has been a long time since I've been alone in a quiet house with the chance to feel the calm. To escape in it.

Sometimes, we have to create our own calm, I think. So I'm doing that for a short time today, before I begin my freelance job. Before I feel the stress and tug of all the need-to-dos. Even if it's only for ten minutes.

Would anyone like to join me?

I'm starting now.

:-)

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Monday Morning Warm-Up: Write to the prompt, "The house was quiet..."