What now.

Could be that it's just

As you left it,

A phrase embodying the dust,

A knockout spell,

Circumstantial to the climate, unnoticed

Bereft, it

Pries to the sun.

Here, listen,

A chorus designed to

Withstand the galing adversaries

Somnolent and externally bummed out

And remind who

Did what to what:

Check the line

Gunning away and left--

Clear the straggling scratch thought

Uplifted by the barking savvy of your balk

Harsh whispers 

Dictate route, shadow and type

To what.

The dust as was auld lang snow, falls, 

Softens the floors.

What was time is time, but it is over:

Go back.  That 

Whine of fingernail calls

Is the crying call. What,

There is no cabinet for the unbleached particulars, 

Darkly bereft of us? 

The last David dies in an   unlit avalanche.

Figures.