As death settles in
under the frozen dermal covers
deep down beneath the layers and
layers of the energetic soil
with its hindmost armies
and spears affixed,
overcome by a
demonic frigid breath,
reaching far down
into the infernal pits,
life in the green turns
to a unholy gray
where the spirit of life
sides with the devil,
the killer of all moving parts
and the sweetness
that life is made of
with the numbing of passion
and moderation of the spices,
it settles into an unfruited state,
like a tree without a leaf
or a rose without a scent.
 
The soil stays in its dormancy
until the rays of the sun
give it its resurrection.
 
As it nears the dawning
of the new age
of the vernal spirits,
the grip of the devil
begins its loosening
and the door swings open
for the divine torches
to enter and spread
their warmth and jubilation.
 
Spring comes just in time
before the devil settles in
and claims his eternal grounds.

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