for
Persephone
a pile of wood chips two truckloads no cash
what remained a steaming shoulder-high mound
long enough left greenery was grey ash
radiance in hyacinth's bursting bulbs
tight clenched green spears thrusting
aside layered chip mulch surging with life
hay-forked by hand wheelbarrow trip after trip
downhill up again sun glancing through clouds
a rainbow brightens
weary he
worships
Persephone while ardent song birds sing
in slant sunshine sharpening seven tines
scraping his fork for a metallic ring
ever young Persephone smiling kind
she whom he loves returning to his mind
Dick Russell
revised version, January 2018