I have seen the 7th sign. I have looked into the 7th level of hell. Beelzebub has show his trump, and lo, the End of All Things is at hand. May God forgive me for having cast mine eyes upon such as this:
Geese cut a dark v across A grayed smokey sky. No wake in the passing, No change in the changing. The scraping of their voices Doesn’t breach my office window. Cut off from the sound, From the feel, From the breath of Winter. Coatless in this cold place inside. Must get back to work now So I’ll know when another day has passed.