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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