Why is it that the last month of year is so cold and lonesome? Even the trees have lost their blankets and the birds flew away with them, carried on the winds of the changing season. I peer out the window, looking for sunshine only to find gray clouds cover its cheery light. The cold bites my nose as I press it against the glass, in hopes of seeing a bird in the bush outside.
Occasional days bring sunshine, but there are no flowers or butterflies to reflect it’s light. The dull colors of winter lay like silent shadows afraid of the sun’s bright song. The bare trees stand guard, lest the rising sun of the morning try to waken the world too soon. Night comes quickly and lingers long.
A walk to the mailbox finds three late Christmas cards which bring a little cheer to my shivering body. There is life in damp white envelopes; smiling faces in pictures and notes that warm me inside. I snuggle up under a quilt and dream of spring when the birds song will herald the mornings and the trees will awaken from their slumber to welcome the morning rays. Then the world will sing again and the butterflies will float on its song.