and demeter cries

Longing for the earth's turn.

Clear azure arctic keen under
grey skies and big drops!
The earth groans in your absence.
So much brown, so much death.
Return that I may ply you with gifts.

I will lavish you in fall reds,
mask a passion singing satire
in full light of a jealous sun.
You would be the brightest
streak, the only streak.

You could sit in shady woods and
let the conifers be your soundstage
in full cacophonous bloom.
Horn and string and flute!
Your whispering arms will wait
patiently in shadows, for they
are an enduring sort with
the stuff of rock sewn within.

And I will fetch for you scents
that are best sensed in cold –
coffee-laced shops amid the
magnetic pull of hewn earth.
Our lips will glow an icy blue
with the sterility of snow,
the fruitfulness of frost.