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I wrap around me the dusk
reluctant to release the night,
shut it out with our electric world
drowning the souls of trees.

I kneel before the night
hanging my dreams on the stars
Shriven by the rippled
singing of crickets.

Some evenings call to you, and sometimes you take the call. This one my ears were tuned for and I sat in the silence of the end of day and let my soul go feral.