I was wondering if I’m more creative on the road, or when I’m staying for a while in a house. This poem is the result.
Digital Nomad?
Shall we cozy up and write
In a house with cats and books
A garden path picket lined white
With trees o’hanging hidden nooks?
Our words would flow
Papers filled and stacked
Black ink, blue ink, all a’glow
Bear our words on paper packed.
Packed and stacked and hacked!
Whence would ideas come?
Words with fire racked!
Cloistered in our den become
No hid away wi’ furs an’ toast
Out about forms our boast!
What do you value in your living space?
When Everywhere Is Home 