The barn yawns wide, its mouth open,
Light spills in—a golden tide, a hush,
The pasture stretches, living and breathing,
Cattle graze slow, their shadows ripple softly,
Horses, their manes stirred like whispers,
The haze lingers, a veil of dream,
Horizons melt into the tender beyond,
Infinite sky leans low, a tender embrace.
Through this gate of earth and air,
I step, a wanderer greeting open worlds,
Each blade of grass a beckoning hand,
The murmurs of nature weave a hymn,
Time unfurls itself, a slow, endless spool,
The distant hills waver, dissolve, reappear,
Every breath marries earth and sky,
The door remains open—it always will.