Red and yellow marigolds planted by the roadside
Hide the fact that nothing grows nor ever will but
Trees, trees tall pines thick and fat like old monks with
Hoods thrown off gazing upwards at an unchanging sky and
Weather, weather oh-my-god the weather, so unchanging so unending:
Sunshine and blue skies and cold nights and always these
Pine trees.

Give me leaves thick and fat and broad like the hands of a giant with
Veins and rivers of life always flowing, ever-changing, and
Doomed to die and rot.

Give me the rustle: the sound that those orchestras make,
A tumultuous journey from heaven to earth.

Give me the apple, so fair and full of fall and
Reeking of the crisp, the downward spiral of life into
Decay, disease, and decadence. And the pumpkin with
Flesh so firm and taut, ready to be
Bought or stolen
Felt or broken
Carved or thrown

Give me December, nights of warning and longing and
Echoing silence
Bring me a snowfall, each perfect flake's descent
Destined to be marred in slush and salt and snowplows and sunshine.

Give me the end of the year, the short days, the long nights
The perpetual trudging through aching ages of decay and disease
and decadence and

.