It starts with an end.

shadows grow taller
the birds stop singing
the crickets start chirping
flowers close
and the frogs start croaking.
the wind picks up
the trees start to sway
the tide creeps up
and out footsteps are washed away.
the clouds pick up the chorus
and play the role
of crinkled tinfoil
above the edge of the earth
glowing orange.
bugs start buzzing
fish start jumping
streets start emptying
and my heart starts beating.