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  • Twilight nears
    I listen from bed as two cars, miles apart, far away, begin their long commute.
    I have never seen them, nor they, the other.
    But I hear them as if they brushed us by.
    In the dark
    each day
    nearby roads' only traffic, they drive.

    5
    In the woods two packs of coyotes fiercely, collectively yipping, outshout the other.

    5
    In the dark, I lift the cook stove lid and if I am lucky there are embers I can grow to fire. Onto that, the percolator, and then I sink back into bed, hoping to wake with hot coffee at dawn.

    At 5, the chickens still nestle quietly in their coop.
    An owl hoots and
    as spring approaches
    I dream of the whippoorwill's dark songs.
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