*culture is not optional

UNTITLED 3

by Scott Vande Kraats

An open door stands before me
Begging me to pass through
Drawing me closer with pictures of open fields
Still baptized by the morning mist
Rolling hills decorated with looming oaks and elms
Pools of water disturbed only by the soft winds
How I ache to pass through
My heart is beating to step over the threshold
I would need nothing more if only I could roam the fields
Scale the hills
Lie beneath the shade of the trees
Wade in the cool waters of the pools
But it is not to be
Not for me