Going Home

This clockwork day winds down to nothing
late afternoon growing still
I turn my gaze toward home

I'm lingering on the angle of the sun
the dinner you are cooking
the zen of pulling weeds

I'm picturing your sideways smile
and sliding off my shoes
the dogs' schuff of greeting

No one else can talk this language
our jokes, the thrill
of long expected blackberries

Here is where my heart can be bigger
than my brain: with you
my yin and destination.