You make the world spin slower
and the grass grow greener
and the knotted oaks in the yard
dance strange and new in the wind.

In the puddles of shallow, cloudy water
pooling in the cracked veins of the
driveway out front, I see so clearly
reflected the things I now can’t lose.

The squawk and twitter of the robins
and jays embedded in the lush emerald
heaven above let known to the world
the wonderful being you are —

even the dead saints seen in the stars
and the careless gods seated in their
nebulous thrones wait with bated
breath, heavy down on my shoulders,

for you to come back home.

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