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.