The rain   was cutting
densely into the granite adjunct
this  Saturday dawns, a dense chill was                              
when the dew settles on your countenance.                                      
                                                                      
in guarding the ant by my shoe,                                              
I wondered the   
water between my toes less                                              
of an annoyance for myself, more some   
daily  perdition in his passage.  The                                                      
sky's empty reproach was                                
                 shed from  his back in a moment, in                
                 some droll manner of preservation.          
                 Still my jacket    is soaked of this veil over the air, and I have         
                 thirty miles left tonight and                
                 the symptoms of a waning empathy.-
                   I will tell you,                                
                   Ant, I have slaughtered, without        
                   compassion nor regret, any        
                           any of you in my domain