It's Still Life

The Door in Dijon

It waits — not with grace, but grit in the grain,
a hush between hinges where histories stall.
Lichen writes secrets in cursive, slow bloom.
The brass bruises light, but holds to the shape.
Somewhere inside, dust rehearses its fall.
You listen. The lock is a wound that remembers.

Reflection for “The Door in Dijon”

There are doors we pass without noticing — and then there are doors that keep us.
Not just in form, but in feeling.

This one in Dijon stopped me — not with grandeur, but with the hush of something held.
A memory in wood and brass, worn by hand and time.

It does not ask to be opened. It asks only that we see it — and in seeing, remember how many thresholds we’ve stood before,
heart beating not from fear, but from the nearness of what we might find.

Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share—and now that I’m hooked on this, I’m collecting photos wherever I go.

©Misky 2022-2025 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion