Sunday, January 5

Horse Ridge

treaded towards the very center of the sun
up and up 
because when we reached the sun
a sermon sung on winter
the hot on cold, it hurt my eyes
when suddenly in haste, it ran, ran fast
and we rolled to catch it, and you faster than I
miles ahead, I watched you chase the edge of the sun.
while around me, the cold, it spread
all around me, the fast cold
I was alone 
for a pretty while, you and the sun, faster than I
I was nearing the sun, but could never quite catch it.
in the cold, I hid from the wheelers
in the cold, I kicked the cans
until I reached you and the very bottom of the sun.