by Cyn Bagley

Created on: June 24, 2007   Last Updated: May 04, 2010

Trees bud, birds sing, and flowers bloom as Spring,
Persephone personified, returns;
her breath, the wind, blows hot and cold; she yearns
for days of golden bliss—lovers luring.

So, desert births lush growth as early rains
bless the warmed, parched dirt, awakening Earth
left dormant from her taking—Hades' worth;
hence, Demeter, her tears dried, yields her pain.

Save, Demeter's cries, Persephone's rise
affect not equatorial vigor;
for under an uncaring moon, Life stirs
as Nature heeds not season's cast, yet strives.

And I, a weary traveler, love not
her chaos, but rather sweet restrained thought.

Learn more about this author, Cyn Bagley.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.