At Home

It's all so familiar and clear, My eye's accustomed to every turn; I'm not mistaken- I'm at home; The wallpaper flowers, the chains of books... I don't disturb yesterday's ashes - The fire here has long gone cold. Like a snake surveying its molted skin, I gaze upon what I was. Though many hymns remain unsung And many blessings unbestowed, I sense the glint of a different world, A chance for new perfection! I am called to unknown mountain peaks By the chorus of spring, And these letters from a woman Lie in a cold, lifeless pile! Dewdrops shine like eyes in the sun, As if everything were splashed with silver... My staff awaits me at the door! I'm coming! I'm coming alone!