There’s every crayon in the box,
every note in the scale;
the leech of colour that began in Fall,
drained through Winter, is in rout.

Every daub on the palette,
every dance complete
with grace and tragedy
and beautiful struggle.

The rainbow arch of spectrum
has reversed what has passed;
a triumphant colonnade of thunderclouds
parts to reveal an earth once again,

naked, clothed, radiant.

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