The old barn doors, planks the color of rain, creak open,
groaning.
Dust dances, swirling in rays of yellow light.
Air, the smell of leather and dung.
There’s a stirring,
A portal,
Knowing,
I want to climb and hide from the world
but not today.
Today, once more I reach through rays of dusty light for
the mud caked shovel.
Work for the night is coming yet always remember the light.
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