The snow has come early, silently covering leaves never raked but left to nourish or suffocate the ground on which the future stands.
Deeper and deeper, it’s all hidden for now.
This season for gathering is not crowded here in the quiet company of snow.
Looking back to the place called home, candles are lit to welcome without letting in. Although the passing of possibilities might, at least, enter dreams in the night.
The light comes up and notices a Cardinal heart-red against the idea that winter is colorless – also challenged by berries clinging to the bareness of branches.
‘Tis the season for standing still. All growing needs a rest.
The rain is falling now, warm and then icy, washing away the cleanliness of snow, which is already missed. I hear it will return before too long.
Nature has decided some trees have stood long enough. They will be missed, but have been cleared away for a new outlook.
This is winter before it is Christmas. This is hope after it has given up.