By John R.Greenwood
Into the winter night go my thoughts of the one to follow. Each one disappears without a trace. The beauty of the light is deceptive.
Dreams of spring fill the void. Bountiful blooms will soon replace the darkness and songbirds will sing and dance from branch to branch.
Cold winds draw the energy from my spirit, wearing me down like a whiney child. Not to be fooled by the solitude of the scene, I turn my back and trace the scent of fresh coffee and warm cookies through the backdoor, closing the cold behind me.