Front porches have been on my mind, the hours
I spent taxing the chains, bolts, and grease
Of Papa and Grandma’s front swing. Flowers
(Lilies, shamrocks) and boxwood sat near. Peace
And quiet visited like Preacher Tom bringing
Tomatoes. One day I sat alone on the glider,
And Grandma opened the screen door. Wringing
Out a rag and clearing a trespassing spider
Web, she said, “You see, if you were in
The city, you’d have a neighbor right there and there.
You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t even poot.” Her grin
Played under her glasses, and she sat in the rocking chair.
Front porches are the place we meet our guest
And share our drinks and food, and both are blessed.
