A country, wood-screen door, says to me, “Welcome Home!”


Family. Friends. Husband. Children. Dog wagging its tail, cat resting on a windowsill.


Upon leaving, it says, “All is well. I shall return.”


It is capable of smiling for us in any color: red, white, blue, green… In any season…

A natural wreath for spring, pinecones for winter.


Peace is its complement to us, captured in breezes that flow effortlessly, through its gracious ventilation. The scent of honeysuckles, or lilacs coming inside; a freshly baked pie drifting outward to a neighbor who might stop by for coffee.

The home is cream and sugar—


I want to hear the harmonious squeak, music to my ears, as people come or go, embrace the joy in the sound of wood hitting its base to close.


The contentment of my heart—


Soft, or scampering footsteps follow onto the planks of a porch.


We’ll swing and gather lemonade dreams. Look-upon a wildflower garden while bees buzz daisies for nectar.


The sun shines a memory of our nurturing mother’s humming; her floral-cotton hem. The shade from surrounding trees is our father’s whistle, his protection—though we need not any here—

barefoot and free.


-Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved