Drowning Garden

In the final week they still swept their floors. A gate was mended on the third last day - the people in the village so stuck in their way, that some, in leaving, even locked their doors as if to keep back the dam tide - frail wooden levees that will not hold. They die hard: the habits of old, and cannot be casually cast aside. There is a nephilim here, in the leafy dark, staking his plants and pulling out weeds, though the distant coffer dam is broken. As in the days of Noah and his ark, the gardener labours in vain for vain needs, ignoring the government prophecy spoken.