ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY 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 last night’s snow across roads and fields. Long spires of stalactites cling to the eaves. The mercury in the thermometer rises and rain is falling now.  By days end the beautiful white blanket will disappear. We begin to long for the warmth of the sun, but soon that memory is replaced 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, the war wages on. Soon it will be replaced with green pastures, fields of gold and perfect temperatures. What shall we complain about then?