Demetra,
goddess of Gaia, our mother
Hear our plea.

Out of total devastation
Out of rain
and sleet and snow
muddy floods
quakes and eruptions,
there is
always the promise,
of a valley of anemones
an orchard of cherries,
an orange grove in bloom;
fields of golden wheat
sussurating in the breeze,
peaches and apricots
ripening in the heat,
when Persephone
walks the earth again.
(and the red flowering
pomegranate
slowly turns to fruit.)
Your keening mother's call,
"Per se phoooo neeeeee",
strong and constant
inexorably calls her forth
in eternal cycles.

We call on you,
Mother of Persephone,
Call her now,
and together
Gather the skeins of your powers
to weave for us
out of this
terrible winter of our discontent
the summer of our desires.