I took a walk through your neightborhood today
and discovered that we had something in common.
We both live on quiet streets, mine public, yours private.
Similarities ended there.
My front door opens to the world welcoming friends and family in.
I strolled by houses on your street and could not see a front door,
so well-hidden were they.
Casual landscape of brilliant flowers, shading trees, and cobbled walk
set out a welcome mat that lead to our front door.
The intricate and formal arrangement of trees and shrubs formed
impenetrable walls that kept your front doors out of sight.
Basketball hoops and tetherball poles sit in the church parking lot -
unused throughout the week, explode with activity on weekends -
a moving picture across from my ordinary home.
I stopped for a moment staring in the direction of where
I can glimpse the roof of what must be an imposing building.
Is that a stand of tall fieldlights I see?
Do they illuminate a private court?
What games are played there?
I am a visible invitation to take a moment to rest
on my front porch, to any who pass by.
But looking at the entrance of the road that leads
to the roof of the hidden house,
I wonder how long that driveway is;
and is there a gatekeeper, a final wall to penetrate,
near the front door?
I have church bells, a school, a parking lot;
all signs of life in motion.
I see none of that near your front door.
But we do share that one thing in common - the quiet.
My quiet is the gentle buzz of life.
Your quiet is the quiet of protective walls.
Perhaps we both have what each of us needs most of all,