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Alone, Late at Night in Vermont

The crickets croon

their natural chorus

& though they must be

in the agony

of relentless desire

like so many now,

their soliciting

wing song

is strangely calming.


The trees

are like embracing figures

in a negative

who can’t be made out.

A bird singing

from one

of their shoulders,

is probably

also desperate

for a mate.


A Chevy of lovers

passes with purpose

& hangs a right

down to the lake.

As if they’re home,

they hit the lights.

I am at home

now too

as I take in

the sexual night.