When the sun, like a stone, skims the horizon

and colours drain through shades;

deciduous moths are sown shut.

When H20s too hard to drink

and the stars suck the heat from our bones;

the flighty shirk their nests.

When life itself one last mass extinction

and the ground itself is buried;

we cherish our amulets, sprucing up conifers

and holly wreaths hung from our doors

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