Coming Winter

The snow starts to fall. The clouds have been gathering in their harvest and now it is time to share their first fruits. They come bearing gifts, laden and weary, but their joy wipes away the lines of exhaustion.

They bring their gifts and I watch as the first snowflake falls. It glides through the sky, the wind catches it here and it dances, twirling down to the earth. The flake catches for one instant on my branch before whisking away and dancing back to the earth.

Others join it. They come out of the sky. They come one by one, they come in groups, they come as an army.

Every second the storm gains power. The wind whirls the blessings around us and piles them at my base. My friends and I dance in the wind and sing the songs of winter. We lift up our voices together and sing of the coming season. We sing of the joy.

I watch the clouds as the storm subsides. They have poured themselves out until they have nothing left. They have nothing left. They came with generosity and gave us everything. They gave us everything.

I look up into the sky and watch them. They rise as a ghost from a stream and leave behind their silent trail.

A silent trail that can only just be seen. If you are looking.

I watch the dust of the clouds linger in the sky. A faint sparkle indicates they were there, but unless you are looking there is nothing there to tell you what had been. The only indication is the gifts spread across the floor.