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Dawn and dusk are tractorbeams
The poet tries but cannot pull away
From the sun rising in the east
And coyotes howling in the west

When words come slow
Close your eyes and look
At the darkness that will show
Soundwaves under pink-black lids

Waves of broken leaves
Waves of the cricket's lament
Patient bats under eaves
Clouds cropdusting the moon

Though the stars have not left
Open your eyes now, it is daylight
Nocturnal campion open and red
Moths doing the work of sleeping bees