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. . .