After the wolves killed the sheep, then the children
I fled the backcountry; without cricket and tree frog song,
the silence grew too deep.
I packed light: food for a lifetime, clothes and boots,
all the guns, a photo of my love, sewn into the pocket
over my heart, the audio of our poetry...
The first two stanzas of a doomsday poem. Feeling prose-y today. Peace...