When all the butterflies are gone
And only Caterpilers yet remain
The barren landscape will forget
Just what the color green looked like.

When the rain no longer ever falls
And water tastes a bit like salt
The withered earth will hunger for
The sweet flavor of the morning dew.

When water seeps over the window sill
And everthing is muddy brown and ruined
The Mocking Birds will gather in a chorus
To sing sacred dirges to the houses.

When billboards are spray painted white
With only dabs of purple in the corners
The world will finally have ended
And somehow no one got the word.
ljm