I watch for you in the dusky face of evening,
from across a barnless field, when cattle lay low,
where no hilltop obscures nor skyline opaques;
I watch for you, Horizon.

When the deep blue light of a worn-out air
is wed with a web of golden hair,
I leap from my duties and run to the gate
to watch for you, Horizon.

By day I trail my clumsy feet,
refuse to play, and choose to read,
yet come the hour – how I blame the hour –
I watch for you, Horizon.

Like the ever-sheer and distant cliff,
falling far and far beyond my reach,
I too have fallen for your power,
and watch for you, horizon.


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