Waiting for spring in the dead of winter is like waiting for the sun to rise. The chill, stillness & shadows roam free. The clouds sleep low in the skies.
Frost clings to all it embraces. Seeds hibernate beneath the earth. Leaves wither away while the trees are made bare, left wondering of their worth.
I mourn the radient glow of the sun. I grieve for the warmth of its rays. In the midst of my gloom I look up to view winter shift to the warm light of day.
As in life, like in nature, every season must close. All the waiting is never in vain. Despite the long, weary night morning always shines fresh. Spring will alway blossom again.
Sarah Lorna
SARAH LORNA BAILEY 