the blush of autumn since passed
the world lay naked
since life found its place in death
seeded with that which will spring
redressing all the ruin
when the earth puts on her blooms
and swathes us all in her scent
while we make smoke of the summer
as if burning incense
to the Gods of hell
and what comes rushing
but the blood of slain beasts
as our hearts beat to the drum
of this machine
we’re surely cradled in