Window Door

To joy--to your arrival
In damp air through the window,
The breeze along the road to spring

That can turn a corner
Even on a brick and cement,
Tarred and weathered street.

Among the recorded musics,
The printed books, the clicking
And the conversation

Of everyone alone with themselves
And together, you, joy,
My perfectly irrational personal

Fling, hide your dewy glances,
And linger in the breathing
Of the outer world returning

Home, come home to me.