This is how the world ends:
With a sparrow watching from above.
The first and last magnolia bloom,
Trembling lightly, by the vibration
Of a laughing child below,
Playing ball with his dog.
And then the sky fire.
And then the daunting roar.
And then the molten light.
And then the emptiness, the no more,
That leaves nothing but an echo:
The silhouette of the magnolia
The child, the sparrow and the dog,
Etched in shadows against
A fragmented, charred wall.