…and then there were none

There’s a map but I can’t see how far,
I write a note in my diary as an aide-memoire
which is as far as it goes because I promptly
forget.

We have to get there soon
the days are getting shorter
and the nights a bit colder.

In the valley
humanity shimmers
like a dragonfly’s wings in
the gatherings by the river.

I wonder
who will bring in the sheaves
when everyone leaves?

The light makes my eyes glow
but I know
we are just the coals in a fire
that’s slowly dying.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.