A man sits in the dark window, bundled in a light grey jacket and a blue Parisian scarf wrapped around his neck. By the light of a lone beeswax taper that flickers nearby on the table, his unruly and uncombed hair shines silver though his face is that of a man in his forties. Awake


Tea and Sea Otters: A Poet’s Cottage

Sometimes my ‘house karma’ amazes even me. Seated at the mosaic-tiled bistro table on the flagstone terrace in front of the cottage, a pot of afternoon English tea and a small dish of almonds and dried Turkish figs before me, I gazed through the stand of shapely Monterey cypresses to the blue-grey sea beyond. What