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