BARN DOORS
Old barn doors, gray boards creak open on groaning hinges.
Dust dances in rays of light.
Smells like leather and manure.
There’s a stirring, a portal.
Wanting to climb and hide from the world, but not
today.
Today … once more I reach through a ray of dusty light for
the worn shovel.
Work for the night is coming yet always remember the dusty
light.
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