Ah the odor of the new mown hay
The good earth makes you want to
Dig down to the roots, get so close
That you can inhale it in its essence
But there is the mistake for the
Source is not deeper, it is right
Before you where the soil meets
The bright air, where the grass
Grows and the wild meadow
Flowers lately bloomed.   There
Is where the ineffable sweetness
Is and lingers yet.  It is that edge
Without height or depth, it is the
Source before the wild there at the
Very frontier of the out law country
And the peaceable homestead is the
Scent you seek to know more of
To understand the unfathomable
Sweetness of this love for another
Sleep and be with me my desire.