The screen door was standing in its place

Right there between the inside and out

Transparent for the most part

 

Standing in the kitchen

I could only see a portion of the porch

But also the wide expanse of the yard

 

There was an occasional breeze blowing through the screen

Making its way to the windows

Banking the far wall

 

The stillness when it was absent

Was warm and humid

Clinging to all of us in the old farm house

 

I knew that the screen was guarding us

From flies and biting pest

Who were waiting for prey in the dusk of evening

 

But I longed to breathe fresh air

So I swung it on its hinges

Letting it bang