i have seen the end of time.
’twas in the twilight of late
May. the sleepyhead sun
had dipped his head beneath
the canopy of cherry, oak, elm
and his latent countenance waited.
tiny snippets of sky that peeked
through the humdrum horde of trunks
and branches suddenly erupted in
dazzling streaks of light. the westward
horizon burst into flames, as if the
cirrus clouds were alive and burning.
all grew quiet as the sun sank beneath
the purview and drug his exquisite pyre
into the depths of night with him.
i sat there as eventide slowly swallowed
me up. gently the wispy tones of katydids
lay a sweet bed of repose for me
as i slid facilely down into her belly.