Calan Mai Comes

You fall,

scorched by the Son,

taken from us for now.

I mourn,

head laid low in sorrows,

though hope stills in my heart,

for I know you will return,

hand in hand with your beloved,

to come another day.

The cycle swings in a circle,

summer to winter,

departure to return,

and back again.

You are an inevitable as the frost in the morn,

and in that,

my hope lies.