Love at the Tree Farm

Trailing along the tree farm, the winter breeze runs past my lips. The exhilarating chill seeps into my body with a remembrance of our love celebrated last year. The sun comes out and we feel his warmth touch our face. This is love. 

Cycles

With each breath, crisp fall air fills her lungs with decay and sorrow. She is sick. The plants are dying and the birds are migrating. Her body is preparing for the dark season.

The coming months will be without sunlight. The air will grow cold, eventually, bone chilling. She will do fine the first few months but the bleak will get to her in due time. The depression will take over but she cannot forget it will be cured again with sunlight and a warm embrace.