If you live in the country, you live
on front porches.
You spend youthful evenings
sittin’ on the front steps of wraparound porches,
suckling honeysuckle flowers
and licking the fingers of your childhood
best friend. You swing on
wood-backed loveseats with beaus –
and maybe still call them beaus –
in the last seconds before curfews
adamantly enforced by shotgun-wielding elders.
You balance precariously on whitewashed railings
and watch the stars come out,
sippin’ sweet tea and the savory tang of cigars
as men blow cloudy smoke rings.
If you’re lucky, life ends on those front porches,
swaddled in quilts, snug in a rocker, watching
grandbabies play with kittens and learn
In between the house and the woods,
home comfort and nature’s peace.
Country people live on front porches.