Don't let me Die in Winter
      By JoHannah P. Green

Don't let me die in Autumn
when Earth is full of her own endings.
Preoccupied, the Autumn Earth is frantic
making preparation
for her own night.
In Autumn she hurries all things away
to closets and drawers.
In Autumn she will forget where I lay,
hastily set aside, like a castoff sweater
left on the garden bench.

Don't let me die in Winter
when Earth's breast is icy, hard, and numb.
Brooding, the Winter Earth cannot feel me,
straining to draw close to her heart.
She suffers her own grief and loss and death.
In Winter she cannot forgive.
There is no joy in her.
Don't let me lie on frozen ground.

Let me die in Springtime,
when Vernal Earth's new breath
breaks apart the icy soil, and life stirs again.
Springtime Earth receives, forgives, rejoices.
Vernal Earth softens her heart
and stretches her arms to her lover - Sun.
She shakes the frost from her flowing hair
and dances.

Let me die when Earth
must take this dry husk back into her womb;
send root and worm to feast and make it her own.
Than I will dance with her-
a seed,
dancing up into the Summer sun.
and we will laugh in celebration.