The wind went howling through the trees and the house and her heart. Winter came for a visit as
Spring had been quite impertinent in its early arrival. Forced its way in, really, without warning. And truth be told, Winter enjoys the bite it brings. Frozen tears on melancholy mornings make for such romantic tales that Winter simply thinks too highly of its time on stage.
Yet we must ask ourselves why. Why does Winter hold such a grip on our hearts? Why do we let it take hold? Why do we not stoke the fires hotter and bake more bread daily?
The wind is whistling now. Trying to change its tune, but I won't be fooled. Winter is settling in, and I'll let it.