On the Day the World Ends  

by Holly Peterson
after Czeslaw Milosz
On the day the world ends
everyone sees abundant leaves
and the shadowed tree trunks
and everyone sees the small pools in the creek,
covered with willow branches,
Familiar but still wonderful
and everyone sees the lighter-flames of fireflies
Igniting against the felted night.
And all this, maybe for the first time.
And then everyone breathes in.