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The Brown Cedar Gate On
Rows of crops–-lined up perfectly
all uniform to each other.
Particularly placed beside a water well
waiting to quench thirst in the heat.
Laughter so loud it echoes through the trees.
Games in the yard won and lost.
Exuberance spread like wildfire.
Iced tea and lemonade passed.
A gate placed between the two.
It has stood strong as years passed,
withstanding rainstorms and snowstorms.
Folk opening the gate, going to and fro.
Separating work from play.
Separating serenity from laughter.
Separating early mornings from late nights.
The gate stands alone alongside the field and yard.
A gate that seems insignificant but
holds in it a million memories,
each one carefully intertwined
in the wood of the brown cedar gate.
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