Winter Sunset

The sun descended over the barren field. A few vines of blackberries were beginning their invasion in grand, arcing strides through the tall, unmowed grass. Summer comes with sweet berries, but it is not summer now. Winter lies heavy over the world. How I wish I could sleep the deep sleep of so many. To be like the bear, snoring in his cave, or the squirl, unable to be waked. To be, I sometimes wish, not unlike these thorny vines, dying and turning brown, but they have sunk roots into earth; they will live again.

In these few moments before the darkness comes, the world is painted in gold, a cheering gold that makes even the shadows feel welcome.