Soapstone

I am here at Soapstone for one glorious week.

I'm in the cube.

Out the circular window in front of me:
the pointy roof tip of the other writing cabin, spring green tree leaves, white birch bark, cloudless blue sky.

Out the circular window to the left of me:
rolling white river water over rocks, green moss on the trunks of trees, insects zipping by at top speed.

Out the circular window to the right of me:
the sound of a car or two passing on the highway, a big red sign that says EAT, and green, green, green.

I'd tell you about the circular window in back of me, but that one's dirty and needs to be washed.

Loyal reader, (that's you Brian), ahoy from my cube. And good day.