is a wistful word
that has little place
Tree shivered as the hints of Winter swept around him.
His first Winter.
He had heard so much about Winter.
His heart pounded, apprehensive.
Not for the first time, Tree pondered.
Why does Winter exist?
Why does Spring only visit once a year?
Why do leaves yellow and fall?
Why is there sadness and sorrow abound, when Spring could very well choose to come and chase them away?
Despite these protests, Winter came.
Tree resorted to counting the stars at night. Willing the ground beneath him to move.
Faster, faster, faster!
So that Spring might come more quickly. Faster!
And finally, just when he thought he would not be able to wait anymore,
The warmth of Sun pierced his cold, soaked limbs;
Tree looked around.
Everywhere, there was promise of warmer, better days to come.
Tree pondered again.
We may cherish Spring more.