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