The Echo of Footsteps: Coming Home

What inexpressible joy!
When the contemplation
Of one such Being
Uncrowds the weariness of the day.

What magnitude!
The echo of footsteps,
When the whistle frees his soul to rest,
And home to me He seeks his bread.

While I, in my solitude,
Despairing,
Still,
Unsparked,
He reaches out to me, and I am reborn:

All mechanisms bursting forth—
The adrenals,
The heart,
The lungs—all alive!
Vibrating
To the Strummer of my inner chord.