I sometimes think the view from my window is dying, collapsing into decline and inevitable decay. As evidence, I watch the leaves blowing around the barn and piling up on the fences. The trees are bare, becoming silent as the small creatures of summer migrate away or burrow in. But there is another way to look at cold. It may just be necessary and hidden renewal. Under that snowy blanket is rebirth, and vigor like a coiled spring. The patient man, wrapped in his coat and woolens, may find in the cold purification and hope.


Four lines of prose about : cold

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Cold

  1. Beautifully written. Intellectually I can see it that way too. After 4-5 months of freezing – not so much.

  2. Freedom Smith says:

    Such a lovely sentiment and the picture goes right along with it.

  3. kimkiminy says:

    Very nice. In winter, trees are directing their energy down into their roots. There’s activity there to be sure. It only looks dead.

  4. akamonsoon says:

    Simply awesome! Doug, that is great writing.

  5. LBeeeze says:

    Doug, you are such a gifted writer. I have a bunch of those twisted oak trees behind my house. I love watching the seasons unfold in their arms.

Comments are closed.