• Waste becomes land,
    Brittle tree,
    Diseased earth,
    Leaves dappled in dying hues,
    Painting the brown undergrowth,
    With a plague of rusty blood.

    Crops wither in the soil,
    Frost slithering in the breeze,
    Softness and purity washes the ground,
    Creeping fingers scratch the thin pane.

    Jackets are pulled tight,
    Against the lash,
    Haze blocks vision,
    The earth punished,
    By stone and cold.

    A swallow chirps,
    Starting the hymn.

    Endings bring beginnings,
    Death brings sorrow,
    Laughter brings good fortune,
    The time is now.

    Revoke the scarves,
    Rebirth begins.

    Come the leaves do,
    Life indulged,
    Crisp and ready.
    Carcass of the land,
    Broken by a sapling,
    Splintered by a seed taking root,
    Pushing away from death,
    Creating the colors of the world.

    Soft aromas flourish the air,
    Perfume weave through leaves,
    Flowers induced,
    The tiny petals reaching upward,
    Bees drawn,
    Dancing in the soft, effervescence of tulips,
    Animals awake,
    Ruffling plumage, licking delicate paws,
    Nature in an unnatural uproar.

    The sun smirks upon Mother Earth,
    It tendrils swirling at the masterpiece,
    The wonder of the new,
    The blessing the old brought.

    Fruit blossoms,
    Bugs congest the air,
    The thick aroma gone,
    Replaced by the climate,
    Land encrusted in delicious greens.

    The cycle begins,
    Gears writhing,
    Bolts clinking,
    It starts again.

    The worse must come,
    'Till the better roll 'round.

    Revert,
    Into your scarves!

    The bloodshed of leaf,
    Death of the land.
    Must,
    Will,
    Come again.