She reclines on the porch swing
Sways with gentle breezes

She loves this spot
Overlooking the bay
Always the picture of calm
Even if the sky threatens rain

Artful reflections
Flow over glassy waters
The ominous clouds tempered
As the wash of a watercolour
On which her mind paints
Stories of transformation

In the morning
A mug of americano
Vapour wafting
With the scent of roasted bean

Then the garden
No more than a thin film
Of rock-strewn topsoil
Spread over a bed of granite

Now the afternoon
Pinot gris
The bottle at her feet
Chills in a bucket of ice

This afternoon
Began earlier than others

Though not the earliest retreat
She may not need
To replenish the bottle