Fog burns off
under light
saved for this morning,
a morning wound back.
The distant rattle
of empty trucks passing
and the clang
of a churchbell
stirs backyard dogs
to howl.
A shift of an hour
sends the tail-end of afternoon
to spiral into dusk, obscuring
the bending eucalyptus
and their fragrant limbs
lined up on this strip
of four-lane blacktop.
I follow the headlights,
raised in a new darkness,
that edge
towards home.
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