A large open field. Tall, golden grass. Wildflowers scattered throughout. Mostly in shades of white. Just beyond are trees..a border. There is a freeness. An openness. The sky a perfect shade of blue. The wind gently sways the slender blades. The breath is filled, complete with the gusts. And there is an openness.
A white picket fence encloses a well groomed lawn. A lock decorates the gate. Blooming trees, strong structures. But none can be touched. Admire from the perimeter. However welcoming it all may seem, a “No Trespassing” sign seems to appear at once. And then repeatedly. Listen. Watch. But no breath must leave the lips.
Will the golden grass ever collide with the green? Will the breeze ever be unobstructed between the two spaces?