How You Are the Horizon

The distance from the horizon there,

About the same as here to that

Tree - given a hairs width or so,

These things rarely are exact.

It took about everything;

Even the woods,

Streams,

Tiny stones half- way

Up the garden fence,

Hidden from some passer-by,

Shaded beneath the feet of cows.

They broaden as the day goes on--

Legwork for the cows I imagine,

But halted at any rate, regardless

Of the time spent

In search of stars.