Needham's poem folds myth and daily life into a single moment of struggle and longing. From the weight of blankets to the heaviness of twilight, Needham summons the restless cycle of waiting for renewal, echoing Persephoneâ€™s descent and return. The imagery of duvets, shadows, and bare arms merging with budding trees creates a tension between hibernation and awakening. It is a meditation on time, rhythm, and the yearning for spring -- carried by a torch that promises rebirth.

She Will Return With Her Flaming Torch

I'm swamped by this cumbersome duvet
that resists my attempts to wrestle it off
while coddling me to sleep even longer.

A shadow beckons from the window
enticing me to drift across the river
only to snare me in twilight.

Struggling to rise, I scrutinise
the sky for willow warblers returning
from palms in toasted lands,

but itâ€™s premature for their circadian
stirring. I tug drapes back further.
Naked arms wave frantically

pleading to be buttoned with buds,
succoured by mother orb.
Hopeless, I slump into pillows, waiting

for Persephoneâ€™s return.

Eira Needham