top of page
Annette Craver
Asleep at the Wheel
It’s deep before
the dark silence of the night
Where shadow lurk
behind doors of bewilderment
Announcing the darkness
and the coming of fear to all
Softly spoken, a breeze, whispers by
Stopping only once to warn
a young bird in its dusk flight
Then, passing on slowly
It flies.
Haunting. . .
And all is silenced by its flight
As it makes its way through the glow
draping a dark heavy curtain over all
Saying a soft goodbye
to the sun. . .
bottom of page