After We’re Done (poem)

After We’re Done

The sky will be strangely blank
without cross-hatched contrails, emptier still
as satellites through the years fall and burn.
Bridges will crumble into rivers,
highways buckle and break, houses decay.
The wind will be clean of car exhaust,
factory smoke, slaughterhouse stink,
tobacco, pot and perfume.
Humans will be gone, but Earth
will be inhabited.
Cardinals will shout at sparrows
going after the same wildflower seeds,
foxes will teach pups to hunt,
bees will build homes and go to work.
A generation of dogs and cats
will feel like something is missing.
Then the population of the world
will forget the creatures
that wore clothes and had names,
and get on with their important lives.

— Carl Bettis
2025-10-25

Halloween Day 25