Tender feet, who hither sneak:

Remember how the floorboards creak—

And notice that the swollen wood

Is made to shift, but not made weak. 

This summer swelter seals the drawers,

And dampness locks the bedroom door;

It keeps inside the sound of feet

Padding on the humid floor. 

No cold fingernails can pry

The wood we warp each time we cry;

We, the doors of different shape,

Can open only once we dry.