Original Art “SNOW” by Paul T. Boecher©

The sun sprinkles a handful of fairy dust upon clinging icicles. Each one hangs on for dear life hoping that tomorrow the thermometer allows them to dwindle a bit, but in reality that each day only adds to their girth. That solar disk will return to full strength and eliminate them altogether. Until that day we accept our circumstances knowing that every season will present itself at just the right time

Icy winds push glistening remnants of yesterday’s snow across roads and fields. Long spires of stalactites cling to the eaves. The mercury in the thermometer longs to move to the opposite end. Time passes slowly as the skeletal branches of trees have given up the memory of the tender touch of rain and the warm sun only to replace it with thoughts of shriveling up and dying.

Thus it is in the winter of life and yet for those who have not yet given up the battle against the elements, the war wages on. Soon it will be replaced with green pastures, fields of gold and perfect temperatures. What shall we complain about then?

KATHY BOECHER©