Barren Tree in Winter

(Lambertville, MI) The solitary oak reached up into the winter sky toward a sun that offered little warmth to the life forms below, the sun a cruel and tepid version of its summer self. I possessed no words of encouragement for the tree, not only because we speak different languages.

In a bleak winter sun, there are few sources of hope when standing in the arctic air.

The tree and I stood and faced one another, though I doubt the tree had much of an opinion of me. If I were in a more optimistic mood, I might conjure up some inspirational rhetoric about the tree's majesty or strength, but in my seasonal melancholia I preferred to join the tree in its winter gloom.


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