A single gate– holding light from darkness,

peace from fear, the unknown from the known.

The gate distracts from beauty.

A single gate– holding back peaceful sunsets,

long summer nights, scents of pine and peace.

The gate stops me from what I strive for.

A single gate– behind it, stands endless rows of soy.

Dashing, large pines crowd the outskirts.

In the shadows of the overcast sky stands a small farm.

A single gate stands useless, a wolf without its pack.

A gate with no fence is now what I see, for I have spent

too much time wishing for what lies beyond, 

and not what my eyes can meet.