The Welcome Mat

The Welcome Mat

I think it’s time
To take in the welcome mat
It’s already autumn —
Almost winter in fact
And I can feel first snow
On the way.

So many seasons have come and gone
The mat is weathered
And frayed in tender places —
The other day a dove
Picked out a loose straw
From the mat’s edge
What a treasure!
It will bolster that one’s nest
And brace it from the cold.

The welcome mat
Has done its job
Guests, both invited and not
Have tread on it and come through
Footsteps heavy and silent
Have had their way
Some I wished I’d asked to leave
Others, if only they could have stayed.
What a tale that mat could spin
If the dust of traverse
Was a language therein.

But the mat had its day
Along with the chimes
And the candle in the window
And the roses in a waterless Mason jar
Stolen from a summer wedding.

Inside the house
There are still embers
And a quiet fire
In case someone needs shelter
Or simply to warm their hands.
The scent of wood smoke
The sound of crackling pine and maple twigs
An ardent spark of light in the night
Signals some soul still
Makes the house a home.

The threshold might be faded
But the hearth still beats.
It’s gold without price —
And surely must suffice
Because it’s time
To take in the welcome mat.