And she comes,

Sudden and harsh,

The pale, bitter hag.

With a flash if her teeth,

And a howl,

She raises her scythe

And brings down silence

Upon the land.

Forever

She seems to rage,

But

There does come upon her

A calm.

It is with tenderness

That she

Chills,

Stills,

And smothers,

Stripping the world bare,

Cleansing it.

In the quiet devastation

Of her reign,

Nature waits,

And she whispers,

"Patience,"

To it.

For the death she brings

Is dealt

Only

To provide for

Life.