This morning the harbor was full of sea smoke rising into thin air.  The house was warm when I got home, warm enough.  I did the things I meant to do: washed a sink full of dishes, swept a room, wrote a poem.  I was thinking of that last cup of coffee in the pot.  When I finally stopped to get it I found the pot empty, the coffee maker off.  I am nearly certain somebody snuck in and took it.

Free-hand embroidery inspired by Haeckel.