Where’s your wife? –Italy. –Where?

The house bubbles, twice the footage,
without the light, halved, one bulb, one bed.
Quiet, still, except the air stirred and
conditioned to cool the enclosure.
Liquid crystal portal to work, to play, to view
the pixelated presence of a purpose
smiling back, travelled afar.

- – -

Staring into the only two skies that matter,
cypress weaved into their spheres with
sunset skin and streams of autumn gold,
rolling fields broken with brunette rooftops.
A barnyard squeel of delight at reunion
trotting forward, counting days till harvest.