Friday, November 6, 2009


When the end of the world comes, 
there will be me
  and nothing else.

the lawn will stretch out forever,
  the green, beautiful to see.
the trees, never drop a leaf.

A few weeks ago, I cleaned out my office and sifted through mountains of old scraps and notes, searching for anything that might be useful. The above is something I found on one and thought was rather good. It seemed like a proper poem to share on a Friday when the sky is shedding flurries and appears ready to shatter. (The photo is the farm I lived on for two years when I was five...also seemed fitting)

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