How This Ends

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The air– it shimmers, then grows thick
And darkens. Time drags by.
Black storm clouds gather on the marge
‘Tween earth and leaden sky.

With sizzling Crack! the air reverbs,
Yet still it’s hot and dry;
The tears of Nature fail to drop–
She’s no more tears to cry.

Old shovels stir dust into clouds
And, choking, you and I
With slow and steady patience dig
The hole in which we’ll lie.

Too bad but one will shovel o’er
The box to which we vie;
The other stays through empty days
And hopes to God to die.
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