Closing the door I close out the world.
I am alone,
Free.
At home.
Castled.
After the mastery of the day
Now I am the master.
I expand and aspire:
I exult and strut and feel aware of myself.
The walls await me.
The mirror,
The chair.
Everything that is here is mine,
Familiar only to me;
Dependent upon my hands for use;
Dependent upon my heart for beauty.
The books on the shelf call to me,
They send out glances to me.
We have an understanding together.
They know I will come and touch them with my fingers.
But first I must get loosened from the day;
From people—
People crowding upon my shoulders.
I must loosen them from me.
How good to us doors are!
They make the whole universe not be except this room.
The curtain folds are full of quietness
And I have a great contentment with undressing.
My bed reaches out kind arms to me
And folds me in,
Awake with many thoughts.
V
How pleasant are sheets!
Smooth and fine with cool creases,
Laying comfort to your cheek,
Laying soft cleanness of touch to your throat;
Delicious with sun
And blown air
And lavender.
And then the kind wool of the blanket
Spreading out wide;
Dropping away plentifully,
Luxuriously over the edge of the bed;
Woven and spun out of living warmth,
Lightly;
Rich to possess against the proud cold.