To be at home… and really be home.
It must be one of the joys of heaven.
The quiet cup of coffee,
The sun shining through the leaves of backyard trees.
The hose laid on the grass,
sparkling and filling up the yard with pools.
Grackle birds talking their talk from the trees above.
Hanging a damp and sweet-smelling quilt out to dry,
Digging a hole and touching the earth
These must be some of the peaceful joys of heaven.
Green, humble, plain and quiet.
The true and final refuge
From all madness, pushing and doing.
To be home
and really, truly, be home.