It’s near the surface tonight
I can feel it
The smell on the air tonight
Strange. Cold, but not autumn
You feel it too, I can tell
Restless, uncertain
An influenza ache deep in your bones
Sleepless and alert
Talk of mortality tonight
and sickness
and lost chances
and that obliterating silence
when you are the last one awake
I hear you
My antenna is alight
with your signals
Surely dogs sniff the air
and whine nervously tonight
What comes?
The wind blows neither fell nor gay
but wild, and waiting
an inhalation
a baited breath
What comes?

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