When I Come Home

When I come home
to my green yard
freckled with dandelions, plentiful
after the weekend’s mow

when I come home
to the smell of fresh spring air,
faint with grass, drifting in through the
window I left open all day

when I come home
to the dappled sunlight, hazy
and light-footed, stepping in through the
blinds across the bedspread

when I come home
with my hot cup from the tea shop
kicking off my new shoes
and sitting cross-legged on the bed

when I see the yellow floral curtains
framing the large old window
when I hear fragments of bird songs, like
twinkling stars, between the stops
and starts of the neighbor’s weed-eater

when I come home
how glad I am
to find You waiting here for me