Burr Trail, Utah, 8 October 2017

The draw hadn’t happened yet. The future,
Therefore, had not yet been extinguished.
It hung like a fire in the pale October air
Over the sandy mesa where daughter tried
Her hand at pounding the stakes of a tent.
I sat, a grunting bump on a literal log.
The fire of juniper twigs started happily.
A good draw from underneath the pyramid
Flaming up from the bottom of the hearth.
Other campers muttered, but only a couple
And not too damn close. To the east,
Emptiness. Purple to the north. A pallor
To the south, and to the west, death
Of the particular sunset. The glow faded.
It always came back to that, the end
That was never the end. The end that won’t
Be coming back won’t be, can’t be the end.
The draw hadn’t happened yet. The future,
Therefore, continued to burn, burn, burn,
And would be extinguished but not as such.