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Southern Sun
Emerald water gracefully shimmers beneath the morning sun.
Colorful stones, bathed in sunlight, shine in the water's depths.
Turning back towards the house reveals a gate—a portal to reality.
leading through flowing fields of green grass and golden wheat.
A water pump, its creak echoing the song of a cardinal,
spews pristine crystal water.
Glistening with hints of color refracting in the sunlight.
Breathes life into the arid, hardened ground.
The blue of the cornflower glistens in the morning mist.
A creaky, red, weathered barn stands barren.
Beaten by the hot southern sun.
The simple joy of plucking crabapples from the branch,
Throwing them all over the ranch
Exploding in a burst of red and white against the old shed.
Leaving behind a stain
a vivid floral imprint shaped by the juice of the apple.
A reminder of days when I felt truly alive.
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This is an ekphrastic Poem written about Owen Gramme's "Gate".