wandering home

i have found a home
in love’s low hills
you’d never notice me,
as you traced over their golden backs.
the waves of reeds sing
quietly muttering “today” and “now,”

and i do not worry about it,
you know, all those dirty things
our minds play games with while we’re gone,
no, i am no harlot here, 
my home is the earth,
under the sun, 
in the dirt,
away from all.

and you are invited
to our home of listening and waiting,
to meet in the Great Silent Song
and rest.

do I sing here? 
yes.