The
Soul of Green prevails in Winter –
twining
up in elegance: unseen by most,
perhaps,
except in dreams, but still the soul
of everything.
Spring is just as strong a thing
as
Fall: Winter is to Summer what a bat is
to
a ball: a sporting business all in all.
So
why does Green seem sad today?
Intransigently
frozen January can’t be what
disturbs
it. January is its sibling: so are all
the
other incremental phases of their seamless
cosmic
unity. But Green appears to think
that
it no longer can sustain it with impunity.
Something
won’t go well this time around.
Something
vital will be swept away, some
unsound
illness will be found too virulent
for
Green to bear. What could have the power
to
destroy it? What force will have deployed it?
Green
seems to think we can’t avoid it.
.
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