When the Vacation is Over for Good

It will be strange Knowing at last it couldn't go on forever, The certain voice telling us over and over That nothing would change, And remembering too, Because by then it will all be done with, the way Things were, and how we had wasted time as though There was nothing to do, When, in a flash The weather turned, and the lofty air became Unbearably heavy, the wind strikingly dumb And our cities like ash, And knowing also, What we never suspected, that it was something like summer At its most august except that the nights were warmer And the clouds seemed to glow, And even then, Because we will not have changed much, wondering what Will become of things, and who will be left to do it All over again, And somehow trying, But still unable, to know just what it was That went so completely wrong, or why it is We are dying.