Come, sit, and stay still*

You have rushed a lot
Through the woods, slopes of hills,
Now when the day is ripe
And the sun is out,
Come, sit,
And stay still,
I will sing a poem to you,
I will caress your braids,
With leaves will deck you up,
Cleanse your flushed face,

You have rushed a lot
Through those woods, hills,
Now when the day is ripe,
And the sun is peeping at us,
Come, sit,
And in you let me find myself,
Immersed.

(*Note:  painting courtesy:  Michael Godfrey)