By Neko M. Avello

While some may prefer a jubilant spring, I, on the other hand, would like a sober winter.
Why?
Why cold winter, with her bitter winds and harsh whispers that rattle the bare branches of the shivering trees? Why merciless winter, with her freezing sharp daggers, and her icy embrace of endless sleep? Why white winter, with her dull gown of snow enveloping the ground as if in vain attempt to smother the life out of the ground??
Why?
Why??
The words whisper past the trees and through the empty branches, riding the fast wind. Over icy mirrors once lakes and ponds, to a once bountiful meadow, now an empty field hidden in snow, asking
Why?
Why??
For in this cold winter, in this cruel, merciless, white death, is life. The winds, these bitter winds, murmur softly on the snowly blanket. And now, creeping out, ever so slowly towards the gray sky are the awakened buds of those bright flowers and trees that are your jubilant spring. And those hard daggers, their frozen hearts melt and fall towards the ground, the dew that nourishes your jubilant spring. And those dull white folds of her gown, those life smothering folds, are the gentle calls of awakening that makes the living strong and break out into life, the whispers of encouragement that give the living the will, the desire to live, to become...your jubilant spring.

Submitted By venus

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