Fruits of the dead

A spiritual dimension
In a Wintry altitude
Where elemental spirits
Are a light prelude
For something rather special
On certain Apple trees
Rotten apples overlooked by birds
They quickly freeze
Its called a polar vortex
Where the rotten fruit slips free
And leaves a frozen shell behind
Ghost apples then we see

A consequence of magick
Precipitation glows
The outcome something beautiful
An effect that might suppose
Mother Natures wintry spells
Attributed to
A wondrous counteraction
From the Fae a ringing true

Assumption and conjecture
Ascribe impute affirm
What happens out in nature
The eyes they do confirm
Ghost apples apparitions
Fortuitousness indeed
We theorize and hypothesize
Which is where this all does lead.

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