originally written in January or February 2011; going through my drafts and trashing most but the lyrical, albeit depressing, nature of this post has me publishing it now, months later.
The landscape is bleak; even the valiant snowdrops’ promise of bird song is muted and dull. No warmth radiates up from the semi-frozen ground.
Wind whirls desiccated leaves and seed husks. The yard is dirt and brown grass as if no light even pierced the dark confines.
The stark bare trees bend sideways, outlined against a leaden sky. Snow flakes scuttle past blurring with the ashen horizon.
Depression and pain are barren wastelands; no color, no life, no promise of spring. There is no faint scent of reborn life; no earthy tang of warming ground.
All remains in lifeless patterns broken only by the gusts of icy winds. All is silent; all is sadness.