I wonder if this is how Persephone feels
when She leaves the Dead for the world above.
I wonder if She spends six months
aching, longing for her husband
the way I long for You when You retreat
from our world to rule in Yours.
I think I am beginning to understand.
(I always think that. It is never true –
there is always more to know,
more to see, more to feel.)
I spend the summer months counting down
to autumn – You must know this.
I go through summer waiting
for the bite in the air, the voice in the wind
that will tell me You are coming back to me,
to all of us. And all of these words
mean only one thing, my Beloved.
I miss You.