Sunday, August 30, 2015


by David Chorlton

Daylight has slipped downslope
next to a cabin left behind

when everyone around it packed up
and took their picks and shovels

as they moved away without knowing
where to. Theirs was a short and noisy

time. Nights are silent without them. Except
for the black whispers when long-nosed bats

steer between the trees
with their wing bones shining.

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