late night hours
turn into the earliest minutes
street lights cast through
the barren arms of elm and ash
to their own litter that has gathered
in curbsides and near gaping grates
leading to darker depths
what's laid out through panes of glass
the most unassured possibilities
the still and silent chaos
biding yet lurking on the heels of the light
through this sheer semi liquid translucency
that shivers in the harshness of October
this thin separation of the out and in
that keeps autumn frost from this skin
in entertaining insomnia as a bed fellow
eyes through windows wait out the dark
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