The Back Door ~ April Poems

The back door
The Back Door
Where friends come in
and you don’t care if 
your hair is a mess
or the floor needs mopped…
That place where you can
stand on a hot day and
feel the breeze come through the screen
and maybe cool off a bit…
The casual entrance
into a sacred space
where all the masks are dropped,
where you are free to be you,
able to relax.
Out back, in the yard,
a place to sit under the shade
of a maple tree,
listen to the birds,
talk about life, read the paper.
A simple screen door.
A threshold.
A mop propped outside
to dry after the chores are done.
The row of plants by the sidewalk.
Fragments of life,
of memories,
of where we began.
 —Deborah L. Tisch, 4-11-14

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This image is scanned from an old negative.
It is the back door of my grandparent’s home, pictured long before I came
into this world, perhaps even before my parents married.  My parents raised us in this home…in Bismarck, Illinois.
Thank you, friends, for taking the time to read my poems this month, for allowing me that bit of space in your inbox.  I know too well how crowded an inbox can become, so I sincerely appreciate your interest, your support.



 

4 Replies to “The Back Door ~ April Poems”

  1. I can see that back door! Unfortunately, we don't have them here any more – most houses are built without that back door. Or it is behind a fence and unaccessible for friends.
    A beautiful poem!

  2. I love back-door casual! Here in Maine, most people tend to use their "back door" (which is often really a side door) almost exclusively. I think it has much to do with the weather.

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