-This poem reflects on an open screen door as a simple threshold where summer enters the home through sound, air, and familiar daily life.
It swings with one familiar sound,
a light clap in the frame of noon,
then settles back to let the day,
move through the house in breath and shade.
The porch stands warm beyond the step,
the kitchen holds the scent of cut fruit,
and from the yard the living air,
brings leaf and laughter to the room.
No wall can keep the season out,
not when the hinge is left to light,
and every ordinary hour,
learns how to open to the breeze.
This is one way summer stays,
not only in fields, but thresholds,
where home and weather meet halfway,
and both are gentler for it.