With this blazing summer in August
I for one have no sympathy for Demeter
in fact maybe Persephone should spend
more time with her father this year.
I crave autumn in all it's crisp glory
Color floods northern leaves
Rich in hues of royal beauty
Fallen leaves grow brittle and die
I thrive in winter and all her blank color
angry pregnant clouds of oyster grey
ready to birth ice and staggering rains
frenzied gales of polar oxygen sting my lungs
I enjoy my separation from the sun
And the joy of getting my hour of sleep
returned to me by the government
No more battles of fire and ice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem