The Prow is one of my porches. It served as the entrance to the Bayberry House gift shop a few decades ago and then, it became a sorry woodshed. The Paint Bros spiffed it up this past fall but I have loved it regardless, adding a french door to let its light in.
A recurring element in my writing courses (poetry & creative nonfiction), it reappeared today in my journal as I stared out the window from my desk: Sunlight in the prow, icicles from its stately roof, a fringe. Time booth, step in — it’s another world perfectly sized.
I go on to imagine a life for The Prow separated from the house, floating through the countryside, inviting people (two maximum) in for a respite. Ahhhh… the fun of letting the mind run wild.