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Annette Craver
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Asleep at the Wheel
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It’s deep before
the dark silence of the night
Where shadow lurk
behind doors of bewilderment
Announcing the darkness
and the coming of fear to all
Softly spoken, a breeze, whispers by
Stopping only once to warn
a young bird in its dusk flight
Then, passing on slowly
It flies.
Haunting. . .
And all is silenced by its flight
As it makes its way through the glow
draping a dark heavy curtain over all
Saying a soft goodbye
to the sun. . .
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