Winter came much earlier than anticipated. It was a deep cold. Penetrating, and unbareable the colder it became. Some days, there seemed to be warmth, but that was only when a log was placed on the fire or a blanket was wrapped around. The cold was held out by a barrier, but the winter itself still remained.
Then a hint of spring. Some color in the sky. Flowers that try to bloom. But winter has not given in yet an again the cold came through. The tiny petals that had burst into color were killed off. The clouds covered the spotty rays of sun, and the blanket came out again.
After months which seemed like years, summer finally came. The blue of the sky, the smell of the breeze, all the wonderful feelings of sweet sunshine on my skin. Focusing on the sun, wanting it never to go away, I do all I can to make it want to stay. To make it feel this is the only planet that can matter. There is no place for winter here. There is no need for clouds or rain or freezing.
But fall has hit. I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t. The leaves started changing fast and without notice. It seemed too soon. I knew it couldn’t last. The promise of summer is just that, a promise. Promises are something I don’t put much faith in. Nothing to hold summer here, nothing to say the spring or fall or even winter won’t return and be deeper, colder, darker than it was before.
I feel the cold returning. I’ve pulled out my blanket and it covers and protects me.
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