her hammock

she needs everything
having moved into a new house.
the divorce done.
the rebound boyfriend
in the rearview mirror,
a bee buzzing in her ear.
it echoes when she walks
through. shoes striking the floor.
there's yogurt and nuts
in refrigerator. merlot.
clothes in the closet.
shoes. of course the shoes
and handbags.
she's an accessory girl
if nothing else.
she has a bed, she has
a mirror.
linens and towels, but
it's time for more.
the rest of the house is
bare. which is nice in its
own way. a fresh canvas.
then it comes to her, what
her first purchase should
be, a green hammock that she
can stretch out across
the backyard and swing on
as the season slips into
summer. from there she
can decide on what's next
with everything.