Death is brown and brittle.

He sleeps and puffs his hoary mist in Winter.

Blanket upon blanket, lulled by warrior winds he seems dead for months

Pinning us in submission

A ploy

To spread the brown of death across the lands and lakes

They harden, another ploy.

The Brown invites the Grey and Black

Voices protest the horror

When mighty limbs fall away and the living die

Turn brown

Grey machines count the dead

Death is Brown and sits upon nature’s face

King!

Just when we agree to yield

Spring buds

Spring Green, wand in hand

She zaps her way through the Brown

Snap, Crackle, Pop

Brown turns Green

Very Green

Brown becomes a hint

A trace of death enough to start the flames next time

Summer is the bridge between life and death

You should have listened said Fall

Prepare to meet your doom

The Brown is upon you.

4/2/19

lmh