Half Past the Apocalypse

Blue-tailed skinks scurry for cover, under stones wearing wet jade moss for show.  The pale sky was short with rain today; even the clouds seem aloof and uninterested.

From rusty metal drums, dead leaves burning, grey smoke rolls across the road.  It blows past white spider lilies, leaving its primal scent on my skin and clothes.

Young children also cross the road;  happy that school is over.  They laugh and giggle – as they too scurry for home.

- Just a peasant