Whether to Weather
S: I stared a line, sky to ground. Cleaned the ledges again and again. Ash. White Ash, falling. And inky black like from a campfire. Falling and falling and falling for weeks. White and black then flecked through: blue, green, red orange, dusty. Weeks of non stop scurrying trying to discover the source. Volcano experts in Iceland, the Pacific ring of fire. Nothing. Hubble got turned around. Nothing. National Guard trucked in, trucked out, trucked in, trucked out. Nothing. TV died, went ash with static. Outside: white, blue, black, green. You'd think it'd feel like twilight but it was more like dawn: something about to happen, about to arrive, but doesn't.