ORIGINAL ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
The sun sprinkles a handful of fairy dust upon forming icicles. Each one hangs on for dear life hoping that tomorrow the thermometer allows them to dwindle a bit, but in reality, each day only adds to their girth. That solar disk will return to full strength and eliminate them altogether. Still we accept our circumstances, knowing that every season will present itself at just the right time
Icy winds push glistening remnants of this week’s snow across roads and fields. The mercury in the thermometer longs to rise. Time passes slowly as the skeletal branches of trees have given up the memory of the tender touch of rain and the warm sun. Now it is replaced with thoughts of shriveling up and dying.
Thus it is in the winter of life, but for those who have not yet given up the battle, the war wages on. Soon it will be replaced with green pastures, fields of gold and perfect temperatures. What shall we complain about then?