Dusk rallies curtains of low level mist

forming pillows of rolling fog colliding

silently into trees, fences and tilted tombstones.


Small noises become shadow art, twisted into

what could be the errors of nature or beasts

that chase us in dreams.


Silence along stonewalls fosters an anxiety

of thoughts; fear without injury, the alone of many,

the multitude of just one.


Answers are fleeting with unwanted questions

when considering the life within words.



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