I am Apollo in the way that I have always been Persephone:
When the sun sets as November gives way, leaves the world dark until the last dredges of February
have swirled down the drain of March,
I crawl into my lover's arms to wait out the chill.
When spring whispers through the incoming blooming trees,
gives kisses that taste like the promise of June,
I don the colors of the sunrise, of noon, of freckles and bare knees, and embrace the warmth of eternal fire.
I am Apollo in the way that I have always been Persephone,
the way the breeze twists my moods with the slightest chill, how love is found in flowers grown in fields sown with blood,
how my darling knows the ways that the seasons change me,
how he waits for the sun to thaw me and bring life back into me,
the way my mother awaits my homecoming, watching the end of winter eagerly for my arrival and spring.