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My Street, 4 a.m.

Cloud-covered
to hide the meteors, the
dark filled with cricket song

After enough time
even songs disappear
and it’s too early or too late
for anything except
me keeping company
with the night
while it fills up
all the jars of tomorrow

One response »

  1. And here I thought I was the only poet sitting outside to see the Perseids in the middle of the night. I like where you went with this poem.

    Reply

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