Your House, not mine

For how long have we shared this house, You and I, catching glimpses in and out of doors or passing each other on the stairs; meeting, I do not fold my hands to You, although I know who You are; my arms are filled with busyness and I am hurrying. No matter. It is a kindness I am not evicted. Just let me see Your presence spreading through the halls until there is no room for me and all my busyness.

Tracy Leddy