Summer's Hinge

The neighbor's gate, it whined

just now, and snapped shut hard.

A hollow sound, behind

the fence, a broken shard

of something I could feel

but couldn't quite retrieve.

The sun, it makes things real

then makes them start to grieve.

Not like that slap and shiver,

the screen door, wood on frame,

that quick, particular giver

of summer to my name.

The way it used to hang,

a breath, then a sharp bang.

Not just a slam. A song,

that always felt too long.