Behold a Pale Horse
By day, the sun will go black,
trapped by a cold halo –
At night, a blood moon will heighten
the midnight fights of feral cats.
The Four Horsemen will arrive.
The ground will grumble under their
galloping steeds as tectonic plates
stretch to claim new terrain.
The rifts will split the earth.
The masses will fall to the depths
of a yawning abyss.
A few will flee with nowhere to go.
Soon they will slow and claw the earth
with desperate crawls.
But still the ragged prophet on the corner
will stand steady and hold high his sign:
“Repent! The End is Near!”
Cynthia Pitman is a retired English teacher with poetry published in Amethyst Review, Vita Brevis, Ekphrastic Review, Postcard Poems and Prose, Right Hand Pointing, Literary Yard, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Three Line Poetry, Leaves of Ink, Third Wednesday, Scarlet Leaf, Ariel Chart, and Mused. Her poetry book, The White Room, is forthcoming.