'Persephone in the Forest' by Birgit K. Gaiser

Spring

For now, I sleep. When the days grow longer, I will meet her, wrapping my arms around her, welcoming her, basking in her life, her light, as plants bloom and birds sing. I smile: A red squirrel excitedly pokes its head around a tree, wondering where its nuts might be stored. Its whiskers quiver as it smells the air. A wildcat, eager to fill its belly with unsuspecting prey, patrols the borders of its realm. The seasons are too short to waste a single day. I feel it, too: Too soon, the world will be cold and brown, lonely and sleepy. A final rebellion of reds and yellows, of spiders carried on the wind, trailing silk like old women’s hair. Too soon, always too soon, she will leave. I wait.

Autumn

I wait. Too soon, always too soon, she will leave. A final rebellion of reds and yellows, of spiders carried on the wind, trailing silk like old women’s hair. Too soon, the world will be cold and brown, lonely and sleepy. I feel it, too: The seasons are too short to waste a single day. A wildcat, eager to fill its belly with unsuspecting prey, patrols the borders of its realm. Its whiskers quiver as it smells the air. A red squirrel excitedly pokes its head around a tree, wondering where its nuts might be stored. I smile: When the days grow longer, I will meet her, wrapping my arms around her, welcoming her, basking in her life, her light, as plants bloom and birds sing. Now, I sleep.