And that is the end of the story, the fires
Out, the smoke curling up to the sky in a whirl
Of dust and sulfuric decay, the land a color
Unhealthy in the meekest sense (dry dead gray), leaves
Burnt and rotting on the pit, everything wet
And cold.� I sit here, eating a rotted peach.

The smoke is dissipating, my half-eaten peach
Tossed to the side to feed the primordial underground fires
That burn over the centuries its tired flesh, juices spilling wet
Across Monsieur Death�s leg; he�s annoyed, and stands in a whirl
Of indignation, holding a lit match towards a pile of dry leaves,
Threatening to begin again, to bring the color

Of the forest a shade deader, to make Color
The dominant force here.��Get me a peach,�
I order, �A ripe one, with the stem still attached to leaves
That are still green.�� �There are none.� The fires
Have destroyed them all,� he replies, smirking, ready to whirl
In a dance and flurry of black robes, his scythe wet

From the rain that put the fires out.� A wet
Cloth appears in my hand, and I wipe the faux color
From his face, draining it into a half-full glass.�A whirl
Of brilliant paper flames dance around a peach
Tree, appearing from nowhere, unharmed by the fires
Of Armageddon.� I open a book, and the shy leaves

Of printed paper try to hide their falsities, using wind-blown tree leaves
To cover themselves, hoping demurely that they do not become wet.
I stand and walk to the fortunate tree that the fires
Have spared.� It is only a bit worse for wear, the color
Of its leaves brightening by the seconds.� I�d eat a peach,
But the tree seems too tired to bend to hand me one.� An audible whirl

Of wind behind me surprises myself and the tree, and I whirl
About to see the source of the disturbance, but leaves
From the tree (perhaps it wasn�t tired) at which I stand drop to blind me - a peach
Falls into my palm.� It is still cold and wet,
And forces its way to my lips, laughing with delicious color
At the storming annoyed Death, who has begun (in vain) Aftermath Armageddon fires.

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