The sun sets on a dismal day. Children are frolicking on the slippery ice after school while their parents go about their daily chores. Everyone is as tired as the fading twilight sky. It’s winter, trees are bare, the air is dry, and the farm endures while all around souls are barely living. When temperatures plummet, it impacts upon the village. Every day is a reminder of the cold, harsh life each villager braves in silence, neither complaining or rejoicing about the day to come.
The sun sets on a dismal day. There was once a lake from which a subtle runoff could be heard. The scent of fresh cut grass engulfed through the streets, reverberating the notes of an allegro symphony between the trees. Mother Nature gave up her fruits and vegetables to be devoured by children laughing and playing in the fields and orchards. Birds were chirping entertaining melodies. Life could be heard, smelt, and felt, feeding the inhabitants’ hearts love and hope.
The sun sets on a dismal day. Only patience is needed. From the harshness of the cold comes the strength to face life. From the darkest recesses of winter comes the warmth of a beam of light. Head down, their spirits low, souls wander their homelands, waiting for the sun to set on a brighter day.