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Just Before Dawn

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At first, only a whisper—
then the wind flew,
tugging the horizon loose,
somewhere else.

Etched in the sky’s blue ink,
showering me with leaves,
listening to the way,
the wind flies.

Just before dawn—
it steals my breath,
tells me to follow,
so I do.

Now I’m chasing,
the ghost of its fingers,
through my hair,
carrying secrets.

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