After Season 8, Episode 3, Game of Thrones

by Terence Winch

The day began like any other.
The sun came up.  The Albanians
put their garbage out.  The cello
players wrapped their bodies
around their instruments and
held on tight.  The CIA agent
across the street examined
the flowers in her front yard.

Wherever two people are
gathered, there shall you hear
dialogues concerning the pain
of existence.  Wherever the dog
owners congregate, there you
will encounter the tremendous
joy and energy of mere existence.

Then the trucks grumble onto
the street.  The ground vibrates.
The men mow, chop, and clip.
They toss the empty cans wildly
in every direction.  Such exuberance!

The Night King has been vanquished
and now the wolves, the dangerous
girls, and the fragile old men can sleep
easy in the dream of resurrection.