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The In-Between
Owls fly back toward the dark.
I hear the phantom tread of first light,
the tramp and scurry of predators and prey
passing, this way and that
through the in-between.
Those who watch from the hidden camps,
of hide and seek, listen to a broken silence,
as it transpires
to a tangible skin of green noise.
A pre-dawn walk ends in a parking lot,
listening to the rustle and whisper
of a creeping camouflage of violence.
As sunlight emerges, a rising sky promises,
one more lovely, and dangerous
daybreak.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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