In order to improve I have to move.
I mean it – that’s no Sunday metaphor.
The plumbing off, no other pipes in lieu
of it, I might abide the noise and more,
but I can’t prosper waterless in place.
I want the end; I’m not at home with means.
That means I have to abdicate my base
for 13 weeks, and dwell in stranger scenes.

But maybe I’ll get lucky where I land.
Perhaps I’ll be more comfortable away
and more content than anything I’ve planned.
If not, at least I’ll count down to the day
when I can move back home, to home enhanced,
repaired, refreshed and better-circumstanced.