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The Door
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By Rich Tassinari
Other Poems by Rich Tassinari


                 The Door

Our back door marked the time in scrapes
From shovels, hoes, paint buckets, rakes,
Baskets filled with fresh-washed clothes,
The sprinkler and the garden hose,
Three stored bikes that tumbled down
When one was moved to ride to town,
Kicks from shoes to help persuade
The door to pass a work brigade,
The threshold bowed to every sole
As proof the earth collects its toll.

Adjacent to the old back door
A patch of dirt was seeded for
A flower garden facing east
Where flowers held a morning feast
To celebrate the living light,
Arising from the dead of night,
The morning glories opened wide
And what I saw deep, down inside
Its sky of blue and white with rays
Was like a door to heaven’s days.

Rich Tassinari 4/27/16


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Submitted: Thursday, April 28, 2016

Last Updated: Thursday, April 28, 2016

About the Poet
Husband, father, grandfather, and each title is my joy. As a youth, poetry was a means to express the inexpressable. I was attracted to (and still am) the beauty and brevity of verse. All flows out from God, and like a proper prayer, can flow back.


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