A Psycho's Chanson D'amour for Katrina?

O Katrina, one reverts so joyously unto more richly patterned skeins.
The thrill inhering in the wide-eyed gaze upon first falling leaves
Dies just as the year itself draws nigh its end in shadow and oblivion.

Yet in the most exiguous foreglimpse of our long procession
Unto Yuletide and then to New Year's promise is a sorcery
As in the subtle choreography that's executed by the lambent old gold
Dancing on the pond's already midnight blue at twilight's hush.
And fluffy flannels and the carmine-cherry scarves
Erupting like some faded crimson sigils into telesmatic might
Seem but to adumbrate the muted aura of the harvest that seems taking
Light in from the world with all the fruit and corn, O my Katrina.

And at the terminus of seasons, as of years,
The scintillating Welt-All drowns your dazzled eyes,
Mirifically mazed as snows come shimmering
Through these now suddenly appalling forests, come to learn, Katrina,
That [seriatim] all, like you, are just about to die, O yes you are, my
minx.