Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I watch the little white fluffs coasting down from grey low-cast skies. Street lights cast a glow of gold across the white terrain, almost beguiling me.
But I'm no fool.
There is no warmth on the other side of the double-paned glass that I look through. It is a false type of gold.
The real gold won't come for a long while it seems. The presence of cold and slushy snow drifts acts to push back its coming.
The world has been subjected to this cool silver season for a small eternity. Every year it seems to last longer than the winter prior. And colder. It's always colder than the last roll around.
That's what I look forward to. Hot molten sunlight saturating my skin and hair. Inhaling spicy summer air, warming my frozen soul. Gold and lively green hues surrounding me and feeding my dull spirit. Sunlight reaching into every dark corner and refurbishing the winter dilapidated happiness.
To run through fields of lush green grass chasing balls and frisbees. To catnap in sunlight's warm embrace. To accompany nature's inhabitants through morning's first waking, along deer trails and mountainsides. To explore the wilderness of a hidden grove. To lay in repose, watching the clouds drift lazily across an ocean-blue sky. To watch tiny seedlings swell to adulthood in the sun's daily presence. To lose yourself in the pink and white frothed orchards.
These are what I hunger for and every winter I'm left wanting. Starving.