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NIGHT WATCH
by Aeronwy Thomas
                                 
                                               
I am the watchman waiting for dawn
through the night.
I see the stars and moon
pasted on the backcloth sky
lighting familiar shapes
to gross shadows.

I strain to see the brook
running behind the copse,
fingers of light
shaken by wind
flicker.

Dawn will surely come,
the brook and the birds on their trees
return.
I sit and wait
all the night
hours.

From Burning Bridges (Cross-Cultural Communications, 2008).

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