Persephone Printemps

Solar eclipse in Aries, ice storms teetering into April...

a winter that won't let go,

spring that teases from marshy ditches along the highway,

frozen over once more. She lets out a

stutter

gasp

claw

from beneath the surface,

fingers blue, nails manicured pink

a purple twilight.

Her name is Persephone Printemps and she has

an accidental Ice Queen heart,

jerking

from one mood to the next.

The swans have already had their babies,

You and I,

we saw them this morning,

wandering in a skeleton wheat field in the conservation area

near a stream that came from the pond,

Mama and Papa

and all the fluffy little heads that bob around them

almost invisible between the muddy half-stems.

Anonymous Participant in a local

concerned citizens

Facebook group asks about tips to stay warm during a

power outage.

She is worried about her children.

Concerned citizens 'laugh' react,

their names comment, "now imagine this feeling, homeless."

Others tell her, "Bundle up."

Rain turns to ice against my apartment window screen.

The Weather Network calls for red-coded storms into the

wee hours of tomorrow's Ontario morning.

Persephone Printemps cries and cries,

claws and claws,

reaches out and protects

in the cup of her palms

Mama and Papa

and all the fluffy little heads that bob around them.

A small light in the reflection of the pond

winks promises of a nearby hovel, a

temporary ribcage home in the

night.

Persephone Printemps lends her sunfire skin to the moon

and asks his man to keep safe every creature he looks upon

until she is able to crack open and part the ice.