I stood in the barn with its rafters dusty & leather &
watched the horses outside
           rooted in their pastures. If their hooves could grow deep into earth,
perhaps they would become trees.

Each sun has tried to outdo
The other in brightness.
Each has staked out
It’s time in the sky

Poems
John Byrne

How many more days
before the sunrise? How many more days before the sun
dies? Every potted plant whispers your undoing.