Spring is in the air… #fivewords

Weekly Writing Prompt#131

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In the morning he could sense the imminent thaw, the passing of the artic air, of nature on her guard. His aim, now, was to lose the dark spirit of winter, find the strength to believe, to resume the dream.

For death, he knew, is not the end of life, but the necessary gate to a new one…

 

Thaw #writephoto

Thaw

thaw

 

He remembered: in his youth, this landscape would have been covered with snow, frozen, for several weeks, even, on a colder year, for months. Now, the thaw had come before Christmas. They’d had two snow storms, and, perhaps, it would be all for the winter…

But he knew. Despite all the speeches, the pledges, the politicians’ grand gestures, nothing really had changed. Nature, the Earth, would wait. It had happened before, long ago, before the great flood. It would happen again.

The old man resumed his walk. The late December sun rays were warm on his skin.

Daily Prompt: Turn, Turn, Turn

For many of us, winter is blooming into spring, or fall hardening into winter. Which season do you most look forward to?

As the snows melt on the high peaks, the streams flow, white and icy, and we will walk again my love, through the meadows lit of water drops like crystal, where our bare feet do not feel the chill…

For we do not forget, and with early summer, our story begins again…

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#Geometries: Thaw

Promise The freezing fog lifted an hour ago, as the skies got all at once brighter, surrounding the snow with sharp reflections. The garden is again in colour, emerging from the black and white dyes of the last few days. Small birds have reappeared, magpies perch melancholically on tree tops and high flying gulls cross over the landscape, aiming for the coast.

The roads are clear and the pavements a mess of half frozen slush: walkers sport mountain boots and gripping shoes of various types, one cannot help judging the contempt “we” – the pedestrians – are held by municipalities struggling in the claws of austerity. Small trees get greener as the snow melts away but the grass is still hidden, and with it the snow drops that, one guesses, are awake under the white blanket.

It is too early to celebrate victory over darkness: the evenings are clearer, and would be so later even, without the idiotic change of clock that, light-wise, ruins this short interval to the middle of February. So the bike is still in the garage but spirits are already higher: with Spring approaching, inspiration, we know, will be back with a vengeance.