An Evening

The sky has gone to sleep, it’s evening.
Thorn trees on the field
Stand covered in dust, clumps of shadows
At their roots congealed.

The fog on the horizon, curtains
Of dust, cloudy grey
Lights start to appear on roads, and
Townships far away.

The crickets hum in vagrant bushes
By the power box,
I sit and listen to the quiet
Ticking of the clocks.

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