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.