Steeped in the day’s trouble

she asked,

Can you pull the sun’s shadow

off my shoulder?

Can you tell the hazy skies

Roll up!   

(Night to dawn)

she said,

tell the Setting sun’s shirts

to dance and fall.


Can you look after it?

Golden tree smiles

to sepia-

(I can trust you, right?)

shake the dust of shadows.


Dave Barber

Natural Laws